The Merlin's Tale
by RedneckChick
Summary: The Tale of Arthur is a well known folkloric story and a heavily used medium by countless writers. In order to create a personal story, I gave the old myth a twist and added in characters based off of friends. Irony, deception, family drama and knights in shining armor only scratch the surface. Mon the Merlin must get her little brother to the throne...but at what cost?
1. A Tale begins with a Parting and Reunion

**The Merlin's Tale**

Written By

RedneckChick

* * *

The autumn breeze lent a crisp freshness to the air. The birds sang, and the leaves whispered of secrets as they drifted to the ground in their multitude of colors. The place known as Camelot was no different, the mighty castle stood upon a grassy hill, overlooking the sea as the salt air cascaded across its stones, a small village and meadow surrounded the hill, and farms branched out into the surrounding countryside. The time was around 520AD; the Saxons, Danes, had been conducting their raids upon the English coast for about twenty years; but mostly, people were content. In fact, with the harvest providing plenty for the years since the new king's reign, all the villagers and nobles alike were in fine spirits. The taverns were over flowing with men and woman, young and old. One tavern in particular, Brumm's Cove, had a lively bunch held in its halls.

"Hey mister, mister!" A small little boy, with hair as black as a raven's wing, and amber brown eyes, cried out to a cloaked figure sitting on a barstool.

The figure turned, the hilts of twin blades glittering from their place, in a black leather holster about the figures waist, the hilts protruded out to the side; the blades tucked safely away in the sheaths, lying smoothly against the small of the figures back, where the dark brown wool cloak hid them mostly from view. Underneath the hood, the figure smiled, "Yes, little one."

"Me friends says youse is the King's Hand, ta one ta Danes call …" his voice grew to a hoarse whisper that turned out to be louder than intended, "…Magi Flamme."

The hush around the tavern was instant, the lull was so absolute, one could have heard a grain of rice hit the wooden floor.

The figure's hidden smile did not falter, "I have not heard that name for awhile. Truth be told youngling, I have been called many things; I hardly know my real name anymore. These days I answer to Mon, Mon the Merlin. However, it has been some time indeed…since I've been known as the hand of the king."

The tavern keeper, a robust man of considerable girth, got a tone of consolence in his voice, "Naw ye is hand to the king still, even if'n he don't know it." The he burst into laughter as his eyes lit up with mirth, "And how you managed to get saddled with the name, Mon the Merlin, is beyond the grasp of me greasy ol' 'eart. I've known ye since ye twas a mere mite, and yer never 'ad a name ta begin with."

The figure's voice cheered in the reply, "You wound me, Brumm, I was given a fine name when I was born…"

"Aye, but it was nay a name to bear any legitimacy was it not?"

The boy interrupted before the merlin could argue, his eyes now alight with curiosity, "Oi, if youse is ta Magi Flamme, tell I 'bout 'ow youse and King Arthur got ta rule ta kingdom."

The tavern keeper laughed, "Yes, Mon the Merlin, we t'all love ta hear your tale."

The people in the tavern nodded in agreement.

Mon laughed, "Refill my tankard with some more of that good cider of yours, Brumm, free of charge mind you, and I'll be happy to tell the tale."

Brumm laughed, "You never have had a drop of my liquor have ye? It's always the cider!"

"Nor do I intend to, a Merlin must keep the mind free of clouds mind you."

"Alright, alright, here is your cider my friend," Brumm winked as he filled the Merlin's tankard.

Mon stood to address the audience. The name the Danes had given to the Merlin had a special meaning: Magi, meant magic, and Flamme meant flame. Now, a Merlin never admitted its tricks, but magic could be made by anyone who possessed the hope to conjure it in the hearts of those around them. Mon's magic most often appeared in the guise of flame, or in the case of Mon's stories, in a room bathed in the soft glow of torchlight.

The Merlin wanted the tale of Arthur to be told correctly and mostly truthfully, so after much over exaggerated preparation, Mon launched into the telling, "Many times have people heard the story of Arthur, of castles, of knights, of swords, of kings, and of vanquished. Tales have been told, and tales have been embellished. So what, you ask, makes this tale different? Well, you must answer that yourself once my tale concludes, for I say that it is when a tale is embellished that it holds forth all it wonders…

"It was a night so black a raven's wing would have blended into the darkness. It was so silent a feather could have made noise had it scuffed the ground. But trouble was brewing in that terrible darkness. That silence spoke out _"Treachery!"_ …

* * *

The flames leapt high, caressing the deep black night. Cries rent the still air, but still the Danes came, their weapons tore open throats, and their bodies were splattered in blood. The place known as Camelot knew bloodshed as never before, its streets were flooded in red, so great was the massacre. The commoners that remained took shelter in the nearby caves. But, the nobles, and the members of the royal house, were trapped within the castle Camelot's walls.

Camelot's gates, so strong that no man could break them, were thrown open through an act of treachery. Rendu, brother of Uther Pendragon, personally passed the great chest of gold and the great sword, into the hands of the head of the Danish horde, for payment; as he spoke in the Danish tongue, "Hrodgar, you would do well to remember our deal."

"I remember our deal; I am not a nithing who would break an oath, to do so would be niddingsvark."

The cries rent the summer air once again. In the aftermath of that night, Uther Pendragon lay in a pool of his own blood; his body draped across his dais and his brother's sword through his chest. Juliana Pendragon, his queen, lay in her chambers, defiled and lifeless. Charles, the eldest son, lay crumpled in the castle courtyard; he had fallen from the castle walls while trying to escape. Thus he died a craven's death.

The Danish warrior, Hrodgar, left as swiftly as he had come. He left richer, and he left with a longboat's worth in slaves. Rendu Pendragon took over the throne, and under him, the people were to suffer a long time of pain.

But no matter how harsh things grew…no one could speak out against him…for did he not possess divine right? Was he not the only Pendragon left alive?

* * *

"But that can no be true! The Pendragon house can no be all 'a dead!"

Mon laughed at the child's earnestness and replied with a smile, "Ah! I think you are right! Here now…will this help the story out?...

"But unknown to the forlorn city of Camelot, and the evil Rendu, that same dark night, as the Danes slipped away with the tide, there were three pairs of eyes staring out from a hole dug into the hillside…

* * *

"Acadus…what happened to mom and dad, and brother…" The boy was 8, with shaggy dirty blonde hair, and amber eyes.

"Hush child…" The man was old, with hair and beard as white as new fallen snow, and was so lanky it was a miracle the wind didn't blow him away; as it was he was the ex-merlin of Uther Pendragon.

The girl interrupted, "They're gone young prince. We have to get away from here before morning Acadus…they'll find us if we don't…" she was small for her age of ten; with a tan complexion and dark brown eyes. Her long dark brown hair was kept out of her face in a braid.

"Liar…you're just a servant…a _slave_…a _nameless one_…what do you know?" The boy was calm and collected in voice, but his frame shook with silent grief as he already knew the truth of her words.

"Yes, we should leave…" Acadus agreed.

The girl nodded, "I'll make sure it's safe. When you hear a wolf howl twice, come out…once…stay hidden."

Mon paused in her tale to take a long draft of warm cider.

The boy interrupted in indignation, "What 'a happen next!"

Mon smiled and continued, "Well, none too soon, the servant girl howled twice to signal the merlin and the young princeling. The two were in for a surprise, for when they emerged from the hole, they were met by a man of considerable girth and stature, as well as the girl…"

"Relax old one, I was ever a friend to the boy's line. The village thinks you both dead, safer it will be hiding under your enemy's nose. You will be safe working in my tavern."

But the merlin was suspicious, "What would you gain by sheltering three beggars?"

"No one knows it, but that mite at your side may very well be a king one day. Uther was ever kind to me, and because of Rendu I am sonless, my boy was strong, but Rendu killed him in cold blood. Because of the kindness of the true Pendragon, I can find it in my heart to shelter three beggars from the wolves. You will know a place forever beside my hearth."

The merlin sighed, "Pretty words always are the first to tarnish, but I will have to believe them…for now."

"The man led them away and to safety at his Tavern. In fact it was a tavern much like this one, and the owner's name was also Brumm."

* * *

The boy interrupted once more, "Then what! Then what!"

"You are a spirited one alright…

"The merlin didn't stay long in the company of the Tavern keeper, Rendu had held his throne for merely a week, and already Acadus was leaving Camelot. The girl sat upon a small blood bay mare with a black mane and tail. Acadus was mounted upon an old roan gelding. But Arthur was to stay in the care of Brumm. This was the arrangement Brumm and the Merlin had agreed upon. Arthur was to grow up and be seen as a simple servant boy; while the once nameless girl, now dubbed Yew, was to travel with Acadus and learn the ways of a Merlin.

They grew up leading entirely different lives, one the life of a trouble maker, the other the life of a scholar. So this is where our story parts ways…"

* * *

Seven years later…

Arthur

"AAAHHHHH!" Arthur screamed as his body went flying through the air. This time he had picked fight with someone much too big for him to handle. The punches came hard and fast and pain shot through his head, and gut.

"Why don't you shut ya mouth ya lilly livered tavern boy!" Crek was a large boy, with hands like meat pies, and eyes lost behind folds of fat. He was so tall and large he was impossible to overpower. His freckles dotted his face like specks of dirt, and his scruffy hair resembled a dusty mop. He was quite the terrifying fifteen year old bully.

Despite the pain Arthur gritted out a sharp reply, "Better a tavern boy than a street show fat boy!"

Arthur didn't say much more. He couldn't since his whole world blacked out as Crek's hands cut off his air supply…

Arthur woke up sputtering for air and gasping for breath as he felt someone holding the nape of his neck. His head was being dunked repeatedly into a barrel of ice cold water…he sputtered, "ENOUGH!"

He was immediately jerked backwards and thrown to the floor. A towel was thrown in his face. He quickly got his bearings. He was back at the tavern, and the hulking tank of anger in front of him was none other than his keeper…Brumm.

"You stupid hog-swallow! Why is that every damn time you get ya'self in 'ta a bloody brawl, I'm the one that has to save your worthless hide! I ain't no wet nurse, and the devil have me if'n I is! You're fifteen now! Damn well a man grown! It's time for you to take some responsibility around here! Now get off your blasted butt and see to the customers! If'n I catch you fighting again I swear I'm going to have your guts for garters!"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you…" Arthur mumbled under his breath as he headed out to wait on the customers, "Stupid, smelly, lousy, greasy, malicious pig that you are."

Arthur waited on the customers and cleaned the tables and the dishes. However, as he worked, his mind was elsewhere. _Tavern boy, lilly livered, worthless, hog-swallow. Why is it that no matter what I do I'm branded as useless? I want to do more with my life than work at this damned tavern! I'm destined for greatness, I KNOW IT! What life could I lead if I were given the chance? I could be a great knight! King Rendu couldn't hope for a stronger knight than Ser Arthur the Bold, no, no Ser Arthur the BRAVE!_

_ I want more than just beer stained rags to wear. I want more than a flea infested cot to call my bed. I want more to my name than just, "Tavern Boy!" Why did life stick me here? I was an orphan, surely the Lord could have had the kindness to dump me somewhere where I could LIVE my life…_

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted as Brumm once again grabbed him by the nape of the neck and shoved him towards the back door. Arthur was about to grumble a curt question when he heard the ruckus begin in the tavern's front room. Memory dawned on him. It was tax day, and the King's Men were here to collect. Brumm never wanted him around when they were here. He grudgingly left to the safety of the streets.

The streets of Camelot were sullen, and forlorn, the homes were closer to wood piles than huts, and the heavy smoke from cook fires made the air dense and hard to breath. Even in the desolation, the cacophony of sounds, horses braying, hoof beats, grumbles, curses, footfalls, rang loud enough to deafen a body.

Arthur sighed as he watched and listened to it all and thought _what a hell hole I managed to wind up calling home._

* * *

Yew

_Breath in, breath out, sense the forest, let my mind fall blank, let the peace of the wilderness fill me, calm as still water, strong as the bear, brave as the dragon, fierce as the badger, loyal as the hound, steadfast as the oak, wise as the owl, witty as the fox, swift as the eagle, merciless as the wolf…this is what I must master. If I pass today…I'll be a Merlin, I'll journey to Camelot to aid the one who was never told the past. I am the ill begotten child of the lady Juliana, the half blood elder sister of the true king. When we meet, he shan't know my story. To him I will never be sister, never be friend, only teacher. I will give him a throne and stay ever watchful at his side. For my king I must be prepared to die…this is the Merlin's vow, first God, then King, then People, then Self. If I can't accept this I can never be a Merlin._

Yew had grown up well; she was an average looking young woman. There was nothing particularly striking about her; at first glance. In her head she was different; her very being separated her from the other women of her time. She wore a Merlin's garb, calf skin boots, dark breeches, an off-white tunic, and dark brown wool cloak. The cloak concealed the twin blades she kept in sheaths tucked safely close to the small of her back. She also had various calf skin pouches tied to her belt.

Acadus had taught her to wield her blades, and taught her what a Merlin should know to be a true Merlin. Things were different than what the books say. A Merlin wasn't mischief, wasn't magic, wasn't a weakling that resorted to cheating ways. A Merlin was a wise one, a person who made it their business to know. No Merlin knew everything; a Merlin rather chose a field and learned of that field, dipping sparsely into others when it was needed. Maybe a Merlin was magic symbolically. For when the fox hole grew hot with the flames of the hunter, a Merlin would act quite appropriately. So if villains needed magic as an excuse to how they were beaten by those ever ill-reputed hermits, then magic a Merlin was.

So there Yew sat; awaiting the Merlin Acadus who was a father to her. She smiled to herself as she felt the sun shine through the tree tops and graze her face. She would welcome the test on such a beautiful day. So deep in the Southern forests, it was not often that the sunlight broke through the dense canopies. It was in that bright green and mossy bed under the watchful trees that she would take on the biggest challenge of her life…

"Good morning Yew." Acadus was too old; his frame had grown ever thinner in the seven years since he departed from Camelot. His days were numbered.

"Master…"

"Are you ready?"

Yew sighed, "As ready as I'll ever be."

Acadus nodded as if digesting her answer. Then as if approving of its taste he continued, "Who are you?"

"I am the half blood, the nameless one, Yew, the loyal hound, the teacher, the advisor, the mysterious one, the hunter, and if needed…the slayer. I am whatever guise I must take on in the task of protecting the true king."

"Is this all that you are?"

"Any more that I am, I will never be where others may see."

"Yet you admit you are more?"

"I am that which the Lord God made me."

"What is your duty?"

"To protect my king."

"What is your life against the king's?"

"My life is as the protector, I will die if I must."

Acadus nodded, his toothless gums smacking together as he licked his lips, "So young, and yet so sure you are ready to die?"

"I did not say I was ready to die; but if that is what must be, it is what must be. All must follow the trumpet's sound eventually."

"Will you take a friend, a lover, a husband, or bear child?"

Yew hesitated to answer and chose her words carefully, "A Merlin has no need for such attachments. A Merlin is a hermit and counselor."

A spark of mirth passed through the eyes of Acadus, but he didn't press her further and continued, "How far will you go? Are you truly willing to die? To kill? To have blood stains on your hands? Are you prepared for the possibility that you will have to look the family and friends of those that you've killed in the eyes; and maybe send them to death's door as well?"

"To kill, to murder, is a grave sin. But I believe that I will not keep my hand stayed while an enemy lashes out. It will not be the fact that I may die that holds me back, nor the blood upon my own hands; if I hesitate at any moment, it will be for fear that the decisions I make may cause more harm than good."

"What field do you favor?"

"I favor the cow chewing its cud, the hound on the hunt, the hen on her nest, the sheep being sheared, the corn growing tall…"

"You favor the fruit of the land?"

"Yes."

"An unusual field for a Merlin. What else do you favor?"

"The grand tale in all its wonder, and knowledge never known before."

"Then I have no more to teach you. Go my dear child, take your mare, and ride hard to Camelot. You must see your brother and judge him. It is for you to choose what you will and will not do. You are no longer my student, you are a Merlin yourself. You will require another name. Yew is the name of the apprentice; the vulgar name that sounds as if you are called 'You'… as if you were a nameless one still. What name will you take as you leave me, my child, my student?"

She smiled and hugged Acadus close as she said, "I will go as I came, a nameless one, dear father."

He clasped her shoulder and waved farewell as she turned to walk back to the hut they shared to mount her already saddled mare. He spoke not another word as her mare ran out of the forest, and out of the only world the nameless one had ever known.

* * *

The Nameless One

As the nameless merlin rode her young mare down from the forest and into the valleys and meadows of the southland, the sun was disappearing slowly, in a blaze of sunset fire. The red and orange glows merging to paint the western sky.

_I've begun, haven't I? A new life in a distant land; or is this home and that other place the distant land? It somehow feels like home. The fields with crops, how they seem to be alight under this welcoming sunset blaze. Dear Lord, I know not if you are listening to this black sheep's prayers, but if you are, help down the path you would have of me. All I ask is that you help me be your servant and complete the task you wish of me…_

As the merlin's mare continued her plodding course, the nameless one set eyes upon a trail of people in the distance. They were heading for a distant shadow on the western horizon.

When the mare came in line with the people, the merlin saw clearly, by their clothes and tools, that they were people of the land. A grin appeared on her face as she suddenly regained her confidence, "Good people, by any chance would you know the way to Camelot?"

A tall boy, no not boy, a man…maybe in his late teens or early twenties…with a farmer's tan, lankier build, and shaggy, yet still short, hair; his eye color was hard to tell from a distance, but his hair looked to be a dirty blonde or muddy brown; Surprisingly, he was also clean shaven; it was he who replied, "Keep goin' the way we goin' and ye'll find Camelot."

"Thank you friend." _It would be a rude thing to ride whilst they walk,_ the nameless one thought to herself as she dismounted her mare and nodded with a polite smile to an old women who looked as if she might collapse, "Here dear mother, it twould honor me if'n you'd ride my mare for me. It gets harder and harder for me to bear the jostle of a horse."

The woman smiled with a gap-toothed grin and laughed a windless chuckle, "Harder to ride…hmph. Don't coddle this here old woman; though I'd be obliged ta take yar offer."

The merlin laughed as she helped the woman mount, and proceeded to walk; leading the mare along by it's reins.

The cheery, yet tired, man by her side that had spoken up earlier spoke again, "If'n I could ask…why is it ye are headed to Camelot?"

"I have family there, and I seek employment."

"I see…"

"…and what of you? How have the crops been doing this year?"

The man sighed, "It is only the middle of spring and the crops newly planted, and already the new shoots tire and wither. It shall be another poor harvest for us this year. Too bad to; people can't afford ta have a famine now. Especially since the demon who sits the Pendragon throne is demanding more and more tribute."

"…Is that what he calls it? Tribute? That man has all the sense of a halfwit and the jealousness of a she-cat. If he had any sense at all I wouldn't be here."

"What do ya mean by that, merlin?"

"The employ I seek is that of an advisor. Maybe my words will soften are soft head king."

The man's brow furrowed in thought, "Why do you converse so freely with me then. I could report ya and gain three loaves of bread."

The merlin shrugged, "Aye, ya could. But the question is, would you? I truly think not."

"Why is that now?"

"Because…you know that three loaves of bread aren't going to last very long unless someone gets our king to stop demanding his tribute."

"…any other reasons?"

"Because if I go down, you go down to. I believe you were slandering that certain someone just as much as I."

The man laughed and shook his head, "Well…you've got me there. By the way, the name is Reeve." He paused a moment before asking, "…and what of you. Do you have a name?"

Her hesitation revealed itself as she replied, "I don't believe I could narrow all the names I've known down to a real one."

Reeve was no fool, he knew what no name meant. It meant 'Slave' or 'Servant'. But he held his silence.

"I am bastard born from a runaway no account and a blue blooded lady of some prestige. Of course it never came out who my mother was. So here I stand. I am myself, but many just see the nameless one."

Reeve shook his head, "Nameless, I should think not. You have a name, though it is yours to know and to tell. There will come a day when you can say your name without fear, and wear it proudly, without fear of being looked down upon. You'll see."

Further conversation was interrupted as the road forked, one towards the village outskirts, and the other on towards the castle Camelot. Helping the thankful old woman down from her mare, and remounting, the nameless one rode on the main road; dismissing her friends who continued towards the outskirts.

* * *

Rendu

_Seven years have passed, and still one brat remains lost to me. I wonder when he shall return to be the thorn in my side? I shall deal with him when, and if, he comes. Who would have guessed, that I, Rendu, the younger brother so cruelly tortured and tormented, would be given power by such glorious divine right? Who would have guessed, that Uther, who was so cruel and malicious to his poor sibling, would be looked upon favorably by Father and the people? Well, _I_ have the power now. The people will pay me back in full for every compliment, every tribute, every homage, they ever paid to Uther Pendragon…_

A loud knocking on the big wooden door of the Great Hall roused Rendu Pendragon from his thoughts… "Sire, there is someone who seeks your service…"

Even while Rendu's thoughts churned, his voice grew deadly serious, "Describe to me this someone."

The servant trembled as he replied, "Of course, Sire. It is a young man, a merlin. He is small, and very reserved… but quite cultured and cour…courteous. He asks if the true king requires the service of a skilled counselor, and fighter."

_True king; I find myself a kindred spirit in this young man, even before I have laid my eyes upon him. I shall hear him out. _"Send the Merlin in. I shall speak to him presently."

* * *

The Nameless One

Our nameless Merlin waited in the courtyard of the grand castle Camelot. Her eyes darted about taking in everything about her. The castle was well kempt, even if the village was a pig sty. She had let the servant that had conversed with her believe her to be a male; the disguise of her cloak's hood, and the bagginess of her tunic were much too convenient to be unused.

"Why 'a she goin' a see Rendu," the small boy interrupted the story once again. This time Mon truly couldn't stop the laughter that came from her lips. The Merlin gulped more cider to stop the flow of laughter and held out the tankard to Brumm with a show of mock helplessness, "Oh no, it twould seem that I'm all out of cider my dear Brumm."

He slapped his big belly and filled the tankard to frothing over, "Well, then dear Merlin, seems I'll be savin ye in your next tale! 'The tale of the thirsty Merlin'."

"I fear I wouldn't be able to do the story justice dear friend." Mon turned to the boy and smiled under the cover of the hood of the cloak, "Well there lad, what do you think of our nameless Merlin trying to go into the service of Rendu?"

The boy scrunched up his face, and after brushing his scruffy hair out of his eyes he asked blatantly, "Why 'a she a goin to a evil king when she a sposed ta be a goin ta the true king?"

Mon replied with a wide sweep of hand. The gesture seemed to draw the crowd even closer as they leaned in over their tankards. "Well, now we have been presented with a proper question! Why is the supposed heroine of this tale seeking employment with the terrible villain of this tale? Well listen closely as I further weave this tale before your eyes!"…

The nameless Merlin walked carefully into the Great Hall. The once great hall, with its grand tapestries, was reduced to a cold and clammy chamber; where the only respite from the emptiness was fear; as the eyes of a king, full of inner turmoil, judged your very right to existence.

For a moment the girl let her mind travel back to what she remembered of this hall. In the back of her mind she heard the laughter, and the raucous shouts, the music as the lords and ladies of the court danced. For a moment, she let the memories add steel to her heart. Then she knelt before Rendu, and awaited him to address her…

"You may rise."

"Thank you, Sire." As she was able to gaze upon Rendu's face once again, she found him to be of the same face of Uther, merely younger, punier, and far more troubled. To look into the eyes of Uther was to be caged and fearful, maybe even repulsed; to look into the eyes of Rendu was to be burned and frozen at the same time.

"What is your name Merlin, and why have you come to me."

"I am nameless Sire, my name is whatever suits your desire. I come here today seeking to be employed in the service of the true king."

"Prove to me why you should be honored to serve me."

With that, the girl pulled her cloak tighter about her, taking care to not remove her hood. She threw out her hand, and fire flew up around her. She spun the flames; making them dance through the air. The torches of the Great Hall paled in the magnificent glow of the deep red flames that sang there and then.

The heat from the fire was like a warm caress. It did not even begin to singe the girl. Then, Rendu's eyes glowed with awe as the flames changed colors. The colored tendrils cast hues of blue, green, purple, orange, yellow, and red again, upon the stones. In another instant the girl had drawn her blades and whirled in the remains of the dying fire. The air from the spinning metal caught and sparked the flames for one last great roar before the sparks faded away into the air.

The nameless Merlin sheathed her swords, and knelt once again.

Rendu's clasped hands and malicious smile showed his approval, "My dear boy, I believe that you have just earned your employment. Now, I won't be requiring much advice. However, your abilities have caught my eye. I will hire you, and maybe when you've been seasoned with the salt of age a few more years you will be a counselor in your own right. I have need of a strong right hand. I shall call you Hand, short for the King's Hand.

"My captain of the guard, Thebes, will acquaint you with my men. He is well liked here, and anyone with his favor will certainly garner the favor of the others. I could introduce you myself, but if I am to have ears in my castle, I wish them to be unknown. Thebes will also see to it that you have a personal guard of your own choosing; when I send you into the village, it would be best if you did not use your magic. Your guard will also share your quarters. I will not have my right hand murdered in his sleep.

"Thebes will be found in the training yard by the courtyard. I'll have your new servant sent to fetch you when your rooms are ready."

Hand knelt lower, "I humbly accept your generous offer, and am honored to be so well treated."

"Think nought of it, my right hand. You are dismissed."

Hand stood slowly, and strode swiftly down the cold corridor and into the warm sunlight of the courtyard. It was as if a weight were lifted from her shoulders; once she was away from Rendu. _He has grown crazier since the last time I walked these halls. His mind is so changed and warped by his new found power and old suspicions. He grasps like a child at a person he believes admires and respects him. He thrusts aside all doubt, he ignores the fact I could be, and am, playing him false. He may be a terrible king. But he is an even poorer man. Somehow, I can't help but pity him._

_ Even so, now I must address this new problem he has presented to me. I'm going to be stuck with a bodyguard…_

* * *

Alan

It was mid-morning, and the pages, squires, soldiers, and knights, had just concluded their morning training. Two squires, who were resting in the shade of the overhang of the weapons hut, had a perfect view of Hand as she approached. Her hood still covered her face. The billow of her cloak, and loose tunic, did well to hide the budding of her breasts. To a world that automatically expected to see a male, she was merely a shrimp of a boy.

"Hey, Baldric, get a load of the new loser," Lionel whispered to his friend as he pointed at the Merlin walking towards the sparring field.

"Heh, this one is just fresh meat. They better not expect me to fight him! I don't fight weighted spars."

Lionel laughed and raised his voice so he could be easily heard by the only boy who was still practicing with the wooden sparring dummy, "Hey, maybe they could have Alan fight him! Shrimp vs. Blind!"

Alan, the well muscled boy with sun tanned skin and sun-kissed brown hair, bit his lip. He wasn't blind. He just only had one eye. He had lost his left eye when he was sparring with Savaric, the bully of his age group, on that ill fated day three years before.

It was a battle with real steel. It was the test that pages went through to prove themselves to the watching knights. Savaric had already won, even though his methods were worse than low. Alan was down, his arm pinned by the boot that crunched down upon his shield. His sword was out of his reach, and his sight was clouded with sweat. Yet, Savaric took a last blow. Even though Alan wrenched his arm free in time to dodge and save his life, he couldn't save his eye. But Alan held no great hate, or rage towards the man who had almost slain him. It annoyed him, but he didn't make trouble out of it. He had never wanted to be a squire in the first place.

It wasn't his choice to become a page. After Rendu took over, all the families provided sons to be trained for the king's service. He was the middle son of a poor family, royal only in name; a son that was easily parted with. No knight ever spared a glance for the poor half-blind boy with the calf-skin eye-patch; even though that boy trained harder than any; every single day of his life.

But maybe, that was what Alan secretly wanted. He was eighteen, going on nineteen. He was far too old to ever garner hopes of being a squire. Savaric, at twenty, was already a newly made knight. He sparred on horseback with lance and honed steel now. Both Lionel and Baldric were seventeen, and squires to knights of high prestige. Maybe, just maybe, Alan would be discharged, and he would go back to the life that he knew.

But that dream was not a likely scenario; every man drafted was condemned to his lot. Plus, his family would never welcome him back. Yet, things were made all the worse by Lionel and Baldric, the once favored cronies of Savaric. The absence of their master seemed to make them ever easier to agitate, and they had grown vicious in their slanders.

But Alan liked to imagine that their words fell away from him, diverted by his chain mail shirt, and leather guards. He liked to imagine that even in the light armor of a page, without helmet, or greaves, their words were too dull to wound him. Yet, at the end of the day, it was just pretend.

Alan tried to train just a little longer. He didn't want to have to face the new boy that was talking to Thebes. So in spite of his aches, he continued to slash and strike at the target post.

* * *

Hand

As Hand approached the weapons hut, she had a full view of the training and sparring grounds. Her eyes rested upon the tired men and boys who were removing their armor, and then flitted to rest upon the only person left on the sparring grounds. She couldn't help a small smile. _It would seem that I've found my bodyguard._

Not forgetting her manners, she waved hello, and wished Thebes a good morning as she walked into the armory, "A good morning to the great man who controls this army."

Thebes laughed, he was a middle aged man, with a tired gleam to his eye, "A good mornin' to ye as well lad. They call me Thebes here. What would such a youngster seek with me?"

"It would seem that Rendu would call me his Hand. So Hand is my name, and it would appear that I, a mere merlin, am to be given a bodyguard on the king's orders."

"…Well then Hand, it is very nice to meet you. So…you have become the advisor to the king…"

"No sir, just the merlin. In the king's own words, I'm too young to presume to advise just yet."

"Well said, Hand. It is a rare person who can admit he is lacking. An even rarer person who is not offended when told he is lacking. So then, you must be highly favored for the king to give you personal pick of a bodyguard."

"The favors of the king are not easily refused."

Thebes chucked, "So the reluctant receiver of the gift must grin in acceptance. You may be wise enough to be a counselor after all. Well, you see all the brave warriors my training field has to offer. You may pick any one you like."

Mon pretended to take a long survey of the men around her; she noticed two of the boys were slipping out of the armory like a pair of rats. Then her eyes returned again to the boy in the training field.

Alan wiped the sweat from his brow as he paused for a moment; when he heard Lionel and Baldric slip away; trying to not be what they thought were the obvious choices. He sighed and was just about to begin again, when he heard his name…

"Your name is Alan, right?"

He moved to look at the boy he now knew to be a Merlin, "That is what I am called."

"Would you be interested in accompanying me, as a bodyguard?"

Alan was in momentary shock, though he recovered quite quickly, "I am honored, but…"

Thebes approached the two and interrupted good naturedly, "Then what else matters lad? If you are honored, then accept. This could be your big chance. Trust me, I doubt this merlin is acting out of pity."

Alan sighed, he was too worn out to argue, "I'll be your bodyguard if you answer me why."

Hand smiled, "You're the only fighter I have seen so far that has more than talk behind his sword. I have been watching you train for some time; and you seem to have more heart than all of these so called knights put together."

* * *

Hand

Hand followed her new servant, an old woman with a weary smile, through the drafty and damp corridors of castle Camelot. She couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment with Alan at her side. She had been lucky to be presented with someone who wouldn't fear a rebellion. Even though Alan didn't know it yet, he would be a great aid in the coming war.

The woman opened a door to reveal a large room. There was a smaller door in one corner that led to a latrine. There were two beds, a large scarlet rug in the middle of the floor, a well-sized fireplace, a small table with two cushioned chairs, and a bookcase. There were plenty of torches on the walls, and a shuttered window could be opened to let in light.

Hand nodded her approval and made a great deal of flattery over it, "Oh my! This is amazing! You must take my great appreciation to the king! He honors me far too much!"

The old woman wore what seemed a forced smile, "I will tell him so. His majesty also says that since it is only just now early noon, that you should go down to the village and see what you think of the people and land. You will find many taverns; all will feed you free of charge. He also says to go on foot, the village is not far, and horses would draw attention."

"Thank you. Tell the king that I am grateful for his leave to explore and learn." She turned to Alan, "What say you of this plan."

He sighed, "I don't have a choice in the matter do I?"

Hand smiled, "Not really."

The walk to the village was a short one. Yet somehow, a good deal of conversation happened between Alan and Hand.

"Are you _really_ a Merlin?"

"Of course. What else would I be?" Hand shrugged with a laugh.

Alan shrugged also, "Just asking. Do you really perform magic and control flames?"

"How'd you hear I could control flames?"

"Heard some servants muttering on the way to your quarters."

Hand laughed, "Well, it's sort of a secret. But, since you are supposed to be my bodyguard, I feel I can trust you. You won't tell anyone will you?"

"Who would I tell?"

"Promise." Hand commanded more seriously.

"Fine, I promise."

"The secret to my flames and other 'magic' is in the pouches on my belt. The powders react together and cause sparks. The air caused when I wave my arms, or fight, with my blades, ignite the sparks to fire."

Alan was speechless and couldn't do anything more than shake his head in admiration. Almost too soon the two were at the outskirts of the village and had to end their conversation.

* * *

Arthur

"Boy! Get ya arse out here! Ye have been up there all morn!" Brumm was bristling with anger as he rightly raged towards Arthur.

There was no answer, and the door to Arthur's room remained closed.

"BOY! OPEN UP THIS DAMN DOOR!"

From his room, huddled under grimy sheets, and snuggled into itchy straw, Arthur mumbled a reply, "I don't feel well! I think I have a terrible disease!"

Brumm was lost for words, "Quit fooling and get out here."

"I feel terrible!" The voice sounded pitiful and weak.

Brumm grudgingly replied, "You better be damned sick to miss a whole day's work! I'll bring you some dinner later then."

Arthur smirked from the darkness of his room. Old Brumm was far too soft at heart to ever suspect Arthur was telling a grand ole fib…

"YOUSE A MEANS KING ARTHUR LIED!" The small boy was exactly on cue with his interruption. The crowd visibly groaned at yet another hindrance to the telling of the tale.

But Mon simply took it in stride, jumping at the chance to give a fluent explanation of the lie of the king, "Well, dear boy, that is quite an exceptional question. But, you see, sometimes a lie is necessary. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that a lie is wrong in any form. However, in Arthur's case, this was not a lie. He merely did not tell the whole truth. For, you see, Arthur _was_ sick with a terrible disease. He was sick with lust for adventure. You yourself will experience such sickness when you are older. There is no set age really, but most assuredly you'll experience it at least once in your lifetime; a longing for the unknown and a chance to better your station in life."

"Youse is confusing."

Brumm laughed as he leaned on the bar table, "Mon wouldn't be much of a merlin if the answers to your questions weren't confusing."

Mon held up a hand with a chuckle, "Enough, both of you. Now then, I do believe I was in the middle of a tale…"

Arthur crept to his door, and opened it ever so silently. Left, right, the coast was clear…he moved ever so stealthily through the shadows of the tavern. It was no difficult task to become lost in the dark places between the torches. The torch wood and oil was precious, and with so few customers these days, Brumm never lit more than he had to.

Once he was safely on the dirt street, he took his time walking around. _I sure went to a lot of trouble to escape work today. But I have no clue what else I could do besides work. If I start another fight, Brumm will come running; and all would have been for naught. DAMN IT! I can't take the work, and I can't take having nothing to do! I'm fifteen! Shouldn't I be off on adventures? Slaying foul beasts, saving people, being praised; I don't know, SOMETHING!_

As Arthur ranted to himself in his mind he was snapped back to reality as he saw some of the other village boys playing swordsman with wooden swords.

"Hi, could I spar with you guys?" Arthur struggled to show the sincerity in his voice. He even went so far as to try to smile. With his shaggy dirty blonde hair, the gesture made him look like a goof.

The largest boy gave him a level, cold eyed stare, "We don't spar with tavern rats. All our pops got good lives, and we got chances of becoming soldiers. We don't want no good for nothings around to degrade us."

Arthur had made a terrible mistake. The boys weren't merely village boys, they were sons of the wealthier households.

A commanding voice interrupted just as Arthur was about to walk away in shame, "Look closer boy. What differences do you see between yourself and the one you ridicule? Answer truthfully now, because I tell you I see none."

The boy scowled at the figure that approached him, "Who are you, a mere stranger, to question the way things work here! I am the son of the Swallow house! I am Martin Swallow! Someday I'll be a great knight!"

The cloaked figure shrugged, "I believe I am a stranger, but by being a stranger am able to see past the lies that others seem to cling to. I'd say Arthur here'd fancy being a knight as well. Wouldn't you agree that they makes have something in common?" Arthur was fully attentive now, and hung onto every word that Hand, for it was Hand that spoke, said. "What you see is a servant, one who should be nameless. You see a person one level above scum in your eyes. I see the potential for greatness. This boy is capable of great achievements, if he is ever given the chance."

Martin looked to be of an age with Arthur and his sun kissed brown locks did not help to hide the glare of hatred in his piercing eyes. His friends remained mute with looks of disdain on their smug faces as Martin sneered, "WANTING don't mean nothing! If'n you had any noble blood in ya ya'd know that! This flea in front of me ain't no more than a tavern boy!"

"Aye, that may be all you see…but maybe you lack the sense to see past appearances."

The boy clenched his fists and made as if to attack Hand for such an insult. But another figure that the group of boys had failed to notice intervened. It was Alan who shoved in front of Hand with his hand on his sword hilt, "Watch yourself Martin; don't start a fight you can't win. Messing with this particular merlin won't bode well for you."

The said boy, Martin unclenched his fists grudgingly, "Who cares if'n he is the king's merlin! If'n the king had competent knights he wouldn't need this trash! Since when do you babysit merlins Alan! What, too weak to make a good soldier! The mighty Alan, rewarded for his great battle prowess by being handed the position of bodyguard. Oh, not merely a bodyguard! You're an arse wiping wet nurse to a sniveling MERLIN!"

A crowd was starting to gather on that travel worn dirt road. Alan sighed, but he let the insult go. Starting a fight now was pointless…

"Let it go brother…I can't change the past…you know that."

"Brother! Don't you dare call me brother! Would that my mother had never born you! I would kill to be a knight! And you threw the chance away! Now you are nothing. A lap dog of a merlin…so worthy of high esteem…"

Alan sighed, and instead of provoking his younger brother further, he turned to Hand, "We should leave."

"I find that I must agree…"

But Martin wouldn't calm down. He continued his tirade upon Hand, "…and you! Who twould you be? What parent would ever put their child into the respectless profession of a merlin!"

Hand sighed, "Well…my mother took little time for my raising. My father never possessed a right to council me; and the ones who raised me…my grandparents…did not think a merlin so shameful as you would think…"

"So not merely a merlin, but a bastard as well! How does it feel Bastard! How does it feel to be the bearer of so much shame?"

Hand's annoyance gave way to amusement at the time old insult, "Well, I don't know how you managed to put two and two together with your obvious lack of wit. Still, I never really bore hurt from that insult. In my opinion, it is the person that makes the lineage, not the heritage that makes the person. A bastard is what I am. I can't change that. But I can change who I am, how I act, who I care for, and who I hate. Another example would be that you are a fool. I can't change that…"

"Why you…"

Alan finally decided to intervene. He brought the hilt of his sword crashing into his brother's stomach; knocking the breath from him and silencing him for the moment. "Now, can we go?"

Hand replied with a simple, "Yes." While Martin still fumed, from where he coughed on the ground, She turned to Arthur, "You should go home too, Arthur."

"…How do you know my name?"

"If I had aged a thousand years, I would remember you; though I don't expect that you would know me." Hand turned to leave with Alan.

"Wait…" Arthur called after her.

Brumm ran up to Arthur as the crowd began to disperse, realizing nothing was going to happen, "YOU NO GOOD WHELP! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SICK! I'LL TAN YOUR WRETCHED…" Brumm trailed off in exasperation as he saw the cloaked Merlin, "Acadus! You're back! Is this the time!"

"I am not Acadus good Brumm. Presently I answer to Hand. I am here on other business. But I have not forgotten the true reason I have come. I stand a judge of greatness, and my eyes must see its worth before I stake lives upon its success."

Brumm sighed and he shook his head with a smile as tears of joy sparkled in his eyes, refusing to fall, "Welcome back…"

* * *

**Now, those of you who got far reading my story mught be kind of ticked that I replaced it. But as I was trying to connect the begining to the end, it wasn't exactly working. SO I am making some changes. I think this first 26 pages is pretty safe from more change, but until I'm quite positive that other parts of the story don't need more editing, I'll upload more. Thanks for the patience. ^-^**


	2. Things are Complicated

Hand

Brumm had welcomed Hand and Alan to his tavern and presented them with a fine meal of chicken, cider, and stewed potatoes. By the time the hungry pair had finished their meal, the sun was going down. Hand and Alan waved goodbye to Brumm and Arthur; both of which were standing in the doorway of Brumm's Tavern. Before she left though, Hand slipped something into Brumm's pocket.

On the way back to the castle, the western horizon was bathed in bright red, and was being highlighted by purple as the first stars began to show themselves. The peace was settling.

As the small patch of woodland between the castle and the village closed in around them, Alan finally broke the silence to speak uncertainly, "Why did you intervene today? What was that boy to you? You also slipped a dire, a _gold_ dire, to the tavern keeper before we left. Weren't we supposed to be fed for free?"

Hand didn't answer.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

"I am not ignoring you."

"Well, what would you call not answering me then?"

"I did answer you."

"No, you didn't." Alan stopped now, and refused to walk further until Hand gave him a straight answer.

Hand sighed, "Brumm is a long time friend. I will not eat and drink at his expense. I would rather starve than beggar that man."

Alan could sense there was more behind his master's words than he knew. However, he also knew it wasn't for him to pressure Hand into speaking, "I suppose that answer will suffice. Though I must say I'm quite surprised. You haven't yet inquired as to what I had to do with that little incident today."

Glad that they were walking towards the castle once more, Hand felt more comfortable talking, "I am a person of many secrets. As such, I will not pry into the lives of others unless they divulge the information freely. But, yes, I was quite curious as to how that irritable and foolish child could even be related to you."

Alan smiled sheepishly, "Well, that'd make two of us. I never really wanted to be a part of the king's men…"

"What did you want to be?"

"…I don't know; anything but what I am I suppose. I am far from a coward, but I never really liked fighting. It wasn't for me. My older brother had his hands full helping father, and though Martin begged to be sent to the king, he was too young. That left only me, the reluctant…but obedient…middle son. I guess in the end I still managed to prove a great disappointment to them. Alan Swallow…I haven't been known by my full name since that fateful day…that day I lost my left eye. My parents were there…watching. I remember, when Savaric had me immobilized…instead of looking at me with worry and concern…my father, his eyes so cold, looked at me with disdain…my mother looked away in shame. When I woke up in the infirmary, I was alone. From that day forward, Alan Swallow was dead."

Hand wanted to say something; for one, she had no clue who this Savric person was, and two, whenever someone close to her hurt, it felt as if she was hurting as well. But she knew that Alan had stopped talking to her after the first sentence. He was talking to the part of himself that felt the pain, and if she spoke, he would creep back into the protection of his fake smile.

Yet, when Alan finally looked up, she smiled reassuringly, "The name doesn't make the person Alan…"

"…I know…and it may be true, but still...thanks."

"Don't mention it my friend." _I feel so sorry for him…but what if what I'm feeling is more than just pity…_

* * *

As the flames from the fireplace made shadows dance upon the stones of her room, Hand found sleep a hard rival to catch. Alan's soft breathing came like a melody from his own bed on the opposite side of the room. The warm light from the fire played intricate patterns across his face as he slept. Hand sighed despite herself and rolled over so she would face the wall. _I'm here to look after my little brother. I'm here to teach the true king. I don't have time for these stupid emotions. _But at the same time she secretly listened to another argument. _Merlin or no, I'm still a seventeen year-old girl. This was bound to happen eventually. Besides, nothing will come of it. I don't even know for sure if I like him like that, I've never known the feeling so how would I know the difference between a close friendship and love? Also, I'm not so dimwitted that I'll risk my life to tell him I'm a girl. There is no rule saying I can't feel like I do...if love is even what I feel. The only rule is that I don't act upon those feelings. Why must things always end up being so bloody complicated?_

* * *

Arthur

Arthur was helping Brumm clean up for the night. The torch light was dimming slowly, and it was growing harder to see. Arthur finally posed the questions that had be plaguing him, "Brumm, why was that merlin here? What did he mean by saying he was a judge of greatness? Why did he help me earlier? Why did he pay you when he could have simply had the food for free?"

Brumm sidestepped the question as carefully as possible, "Well, lad, who's to say with merlins. They don't act like us. They are strange."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Lad, take the answers I give you for now. Hand will tell you what you should know in good time. Don't go poking around. You know full well how easy it is to get yourself killed in this day and age. For once, listen to me."

For some reason, Arthur didn't have it in him to argue, and he replied grudgingly, "Alright, I'll do as you say."

_But I still wonder just what truths I have yet to know…_

That night…Arthur dreamt of a very different time…

* * *

A man and boy were leaving the gates of a large castle next to the sea. "Father, where are we going?" The small boy with dirty blonde hair asked the man who was leading him.

The man who strode beside him was tall, and he shared the boy's hair color. But while the boy was dressed in a linen tunic of fine make and quite fine breeches, the man was dressed in linen of exceptional quality as well as the gold trappings of royalty. The buckle that fastened his scarlet cape about him held the sigil of his house, the sigil was gold…symbolizing wealth…and it was carved in the shape of a dragon's head. The man replied simply and gruffly, "To the brothel, boy, where else…"

Servants and guests in the castle bowed their heads and nodded as the two passed. But just as they started on the path through the meadow, the boy saw one girl, a tiny little thing with dark brown hair and a tan complexion, standing upon a grassy knoll, who did not bow. She even dared to stare straight into his eyes…her eyes seemed to say, "I know something about you, and I pity you…"

The boy tugged at his father's tunic sleeve, "Father…Fath…" but he stopped, because when he turned back, the girl was gone.

The boy was being left behind… "Father wait…" as he hurried to catch up he tripped and scrapped his knee on a stone somewhat hidden under the grass, "…Father…!"

His father didn't turn back for him, but just kept walking. The boy started to whimper and cry; then he saw the girl return, this time with a woman dressed in flowing silks, with dark brown hair and eyes, and a radiant tan complexion.

The woman picked up the boy and tried to comfort him, only to have him fight and squirm, "PUT I DOWN!"

But the woman held him close and whispered sweet words, "Hush now, my boy…hush."

But the boy would not listen to the woman, he just continued to fight until the woman put him down. The moment he was free, he fled after his father, and left his mother behind. When he looked back over his shoulder, he glared with hatred upon his mother, and the girl who stood at her side…

* * *

Arthur woke up with a start in the middle of the night, only to find that he had tears running down his cheeks.

* * *

Rendu

"Why good morning, Hand. Welcome, welcome. Come, eat, eat." Hand walked into the Great Hall with Alan close behind. The king had his morning meal laid out in fine fashion before him.

"Sire, you do me far too much honor."

"Nonsense, dear boy," as soon as Hand sampled a mild soup, with much exaggerated happiness, he continued, "Now tell me, what did you think of the village and its people? Don't be afraid to speak truthfully now."

Hand seemed to ponder his question thoroughly before she replied, "I think that the village and its people have much to be desired, but will easily soar to great heights under the guidance of the true king."

_Finally, I am presented with a specimen of a lad that isn't blind to the truth, and can see the obvious solution! This is a boy after my own heart! Oh if only I could have a son such as this boy! _"You possess wisdom beyond your years to see such truth dear boy. Now, I have another task for you today. This very morn I want you to stay with me while I accept the tributes from the villagers. If you are to be my hand, you must know how to properly deal with the peasantry. Of course, this afternoon you will be free to do as you please."

"I would be honored to see greatness at its work, Sire. Also, I have a request to ask, if I may be so bold…"

"Ask my boy, ask!"

"As a Merlin, I have a store of herbs that I use for various purposes. Unfortunately, my store is running low on many important substances. With his Majesty's permission I would go on an excursion to harvest the herbs I need from the forests. If his Majesty approves I would leave this very afternoon. If his Majesty approves, I would be away for a few days."

"Oh worry naught Hand. Take as long as you require. Now here now, it would seem the time has almost come for the peasantry to pay their respects. YOU, SERVANT, take away my meal! And send in the gift bearers!"

Hand quietly took her place standing to the right of the king. Alan took his own place, with a steeled face, standing to her right.

The act of the peasantry forfeiting the best of their harvest, goods, horses, or metal work, was monstrous in Hand's eyes. However she knew better than to open her mouth to speak out against it. Alan was only able to keep silent from long practice.

When the first person came up, Hand struggled to conceal her shock. As the young man knelt she recognized him as Reeve, the farmer she had met on her way to Camelot. As he rose, he left behind a small basket, the crops held in it were paltry, but Hand knew it was probably the best he could offer. When Rendu attempted to call Reeve back, Hand intervened, "Sire, forgive me my intrusion, but it is a great king indeed who can inspire such a bountiful tribute from one of his subjects. I myself have seen the latest efforts for the coming harvest, and these crops are quite fine. Why, I myself can see from here an ear of summer corn, for such a crop to still be in proper condition, it must be the best stock of all."

Rendu paused and swallowed Hand's words. He caved in to the flattery, "Why, I must admit I am quite a great king. You do have such an eye for greatness dear boy." He turned back to the peasants, "Next! For pity's sake next!"

Things went along well for some time, until one man, a wizened and thin old man, presented a basket filled with dung.

The king spoke with a voice that could cut as easily as sharpened steel, "I have been presented with grain, swords, cloths, chickens, horses, swine, and yet you set before me what is voided from an animal's bowels. All give me the best of their stock, and you give me DUNG!"

The man replied without fear, "As I also give you my best. I am an old man. Because of the homage I pay you I possess no food. My fine horses are sold or dead, my clothes are tattered and torn, my shoes so worn my feet freeze with the smallest breeze. The best that I own is the waste that remained after my horses left me. So take my homage oh king, o ruler, o fierce one. Take my gift kinslayer…"

"You DARE to slander me with such a word! I will have you HANGED! GUARDS! GUARDS!"

The guards that stood watch at the door moved swiftly to attend to the king, but not swifter than Hand…

The flames were swirling before Alan could make a move to hold her back. The heat of them stopped the guards and made the entire hall erupt with terror. Hand yelled at the top of her lungs, "You! He who dares to insult the king! He who dares to bear such gifts! Witness the wrath of the protector of the TRUE king!" She whipped out her blades and sliced away at the man, clipping a lock of his hair away.

Then, just when the loud crackle of her flames was at its loudest, she leaned in just enough to whisper into the man's ear, "Brave one, remember that I am your ally, and servant to the TRUE king. I ask you to stand by me when I seat the TRUE Pendragon upon the throne."

The old man caught the look of fear and desperation in Hand's eyes, even though the glare from the flames behind her shrouded her face in darkness under the cover of her hood.

Before the old man could respond, Hand was pulled away by the guards and thrown before Rendu's throne.

She picked herself up and bent her knee, "Forgive me for my outburst…"

Rendu dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, a look of amusement upon his face, "Think naught of it my strong right hand." He added edge to his voice as he turned to the crowd, "You lot! Now you have seen the power of those I command! Remember well the lesson you have learned! Remember well that when I rage, I will do more than make you soil yourself, or clip a lock of hair!"

_This boy rages, he still is controlled by the fire of youth. However, he has unwittingly worked to my advantage. Such a marvelous boy. Surely God favors me to send me such a gift!_

The old man was led away with tears streaming down his cheeks. All assumed they were tears of shock. After all, the man was almost killed, and now he was simply being released. None dared to think that they were tears of utter joy.

* * *

Alan

_WHAT THE FLIPPIN HELL WAS MY MASTER THINKING! _Alan's outward face was an emotionless mask, but on the inside he was raging.

As Hand and he stepped out into the sunlight of the courtyard, the fresh air seemed to clear his head. _I know he's the hand of the king, but I know the guy can't be devoted enough to cause such an outburst. Those two dim-witted guardsmen would have done far more damage had they gotten to that old man first. So why did he intervene? His interference was more flashy than vengeful. And, what's more, the old man seemed almost happy when he left. Maybe what Hand was whispering in his ear, was that he was actually acting to save the man. Also, what the hell is up with Hand saying 'true king' or 'greatness' or all that other junk he spouts? He hasn't said 'Rendu Pendragon' once when he was vowing loyalty or making a complimentary statement. _

While Alan was fuming silently, a tall young man with the build of a farmer, lankier than a soldier but strong as an ox, began to talk to Hand.

Hand smiled, obviously knowing the farmer, "Reeve, you should get going. Don't linger here lest the guards catch you."

Reeve merely laughed and brushed off the warning as he replied as a friend would to another, "Many will hate you after this day…but I think that Camelot has found its new Champion. A mite of a merlin, who spins tales the listener wishes to hear. Some may call me crazy, but I thank you my friend. I thank you for what you have done this day; for the old man and me both."

Alan just watched as Hand warmed and spoke as if to a long-time friend, _I will never fully fathom the mind of this weird Merlin…_

"I have done you no service friend. Now please, go…"

Reeve complied with a shrug and a last thank you thrown over his shoulder. Hand smiled as she shook her head with silent cheer and waved Reeve on his way. With a lighter spring in her step she headed towards the stable, calling Alan after her

"Alan…"

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he responded, "What!" He inwardly cringed at the impatience in his voice. He tried to make up for it with a more sincere, "Sorry, go ahead; I'm listening."

"You don't mind coming on this excursion; do you?" Hand asked over her shoulder as she walked.

He tried to remember what Hand was talking about, and when he remembered he was slightly taken aback by such a foolish question. What did it matter how he felt about it? Hand was his master after all. "It doesn't really matter how I feel about it."

He felt bad for the response when he noticed that Hand's step faltered, and his head hung a little lower once he realized his mistake. But, he couldn't say anything to fix it since they were already entering the stable.

* * *

Hand's mare was already saddled. Unfortunately, no one had thought to saddle a mount for Alan. Alan ground his teeth together, but reluctantly sighed in acceptance. It was his cast to be ever ignored. He moved to the stall of a dappled gray gelding and tied a lead to its halter.

When he brought the horse to stand besides Hand's mare, Hand already had Alan's tack ready to go.

Alan couldn't stop the small smile that brightened his face.

"What?" Hand asked inquisitively.

Alan waved it off as he began to saddle his gelding, "Nothing, nothing, it's just that a master usually doesn't help his servant."

"You're my bodyguard, not my servant."

"Well, you may see it that way, but many don't. It's just amusing to me, that's all. You're a pretty naïve guy."

Now it was Hand's turn to smile, "Naïve?"

"You heard me," Alan chuckled, "Most wouldn't notice. But, I've always been a pretty good judge of people…"

Any further conversation was put on hold as a sudden ruckus exploded at the far side of the stable.

Alan bit his lip as he saw the cause: A knight in full armor upon one of the largest animals in the king's stables. It was Savaric and his foul tempered stallion. _Of course he had to choose now to bring that beast of his in here. I wonder if he's here just to taunt me, or if it is just chance…_

The commotion was mainly the gigantic black stallion's fault. The warhorse was rearing and pawing while stable boys tried desperately to grab his reins. But the knight seated upon the stallion kicked them away, and seemed as if to encourage his horse's outburst. "Oi, looks like Destrier caught a whiff of a mare in heat. Oh wait; it's just a little blind piece of trash. Seems he wants to play a little bit! Blind boy! Come here and humor my horse!"

_Damn it._

The knight reigned his stallion under control and spurred him over to where Alan stood with Hand.

Savaric was hugely muscled; and his armor was polished to a glowing sheen. His black hair and neatly trimmed beard made him look more Spaniard than Englishman. But his character wasn't much better than a piece of slime.

"I GAVE YOU AN ORDER BLIND BOY!" The man spit at Alan's feet and laughed.

_Don't punch him. No matter how bad you want to, don't bloody his stupid knight's armor. Don't get yourself flogged over words…_

"Oh, and who's this little flower you've got with you?" Savaric turned his sneer to Hand, "Don't tell me your not man enough to bed a woman. Who would have thought that Alan the blind would get himself a pansy boy to…" Savaric finished the sentence with an obscene gesture and snorted word…

_Screw bloody self-control!_ "I'd be more careful of who I insult if I were you."

Savaric roared with laughter, "Is that a threat? Oh no Alan; you and I both know how a fight between us will turn out. You better apologize before I take offense."

"No. For all I care you can go jump off a VERY high cliff with sharp rocks at the bottom."

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH PAGE!"

"NO! I've put up with you for long enough. I've finally got a job of some prestige. I'm the personal guard to the king's hand. Come to think of it; that would rank me ABOVE you. So unless you want your arse flogged, get that butt ugly thing you call your face out of my sight."

Savaric's jaw hung slack as he struggled to comprehend what had just taken place.

Hand leapt up into her saddle. She called to Alan as she turned her mare towards the exit, "Alan, let's ride. We have a few stops to make before we can head into the forest."

Coming back to the present, with a growl of rage, Savaric made to grab Alan by his collar, but Hand spurred her mare in between the two as her voice grew commanding, "YOU listen to me now SER! My name is Hand, and I am a servant of the TRUE king. Your parading and bullying ways do not impress me. I care not for your personality or character. Frankly I think the stallion you ride would make a better knight. I shall also break it to you that my opinion of you matters in the eyes of Rendu. But I won't speak to him of this incident. Why you ask? Because I am quite certain that I could beat you on the battlefield with little effort; pansy that you would call me."

Alan kicked his heels into his gelding and followed Hand out of the stables. But he couldn't pass up smirking as he said a final slander to the once again dumb-founded Savaric, "Oh, and just for the record, I'm into women. But then, I can't help it if I'm so hot you can't help but try to hope."

* * *

Hand

_What just happened? _The horses were traveling at an easy walk towards the village when Hand finally spoke up, "Who was that son of a goat?"

"An old enemy. He's the reason I bear the title of Blind Alan."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…" Hand faltered, remembering how Alan was given that nickname. A new rage hit her as she saw that Ser's face as the cause of Alan's grief in her mind.

Alan shrugged in good humor, "Don't worry about it."

Hand added humor to her own voice as she tried to lighten the mood further, and change the subject, "Where did you pick up so much slang?"

Alan shrugged with a sheepish laugh, "You'll find there are many different speaking styles. None are completely pure English. Some slur their vowels, some talk in heavily accented old English, some speak in a mixture. You yourself, and even me, we both change the way we speak depending on how we feel. And some people adopt slang. You'd be surprised what you can pick up in some of the villages around here."

"So where did you learn to get so good with witty comebacks?"

"That, my dear master, is what happens when you spend the most of three years picturing the downfall of your most hated enemy over and over in your mind. You tend to develop a score and more of retorts to say."

Hand smiled back, "Wow, it would seem I've greatly underestimated your abilities."

"That was your mistake, my master; thank you, by the way, for stepping in. I don't think my bravery would have held up had he started pummeling me. One question though, why are we heading through the village, wouldn't it just be easier to head straight to the forest?"

"Well, I think it would be best if we pick up someone else."

"Who?"

"I intend to take on Arthur as a student. He would benefit from this outing. If you don't think it would be too much trouble, I would really like for Arthur to join us."

"As you say, master," Alan smiled.

_And the light just HAS to play on his face like that, highlighting those beautiful amber colored eyes of his, and making his tan skin glow…Damn it…_

"And enough with the master. My name is Hand. I am no better than you are. I bleed red, and breathe the same air. I'm merely another human being. Not master…Hand."


	3. New Life, Old Comrades, Young Dragon

Arthur

Later that day…

The three travelers were moving at a steady pace along the game trails. They were in single file. Hand in front, then Arthur, and Alan brought up the rear. Arthur had leapt at the chance to come, and had saddled Brumm's old mule in record time. However, his Enthusiasm was fading swiftly…

_Why was I so eager to come on this excursion? My arse is so saddle sore I'm going to have welts in the morning! _"Hand! Why the hell did I come again!"

"Because, whining one, you are now officially my student. I will teach you everything you need to know."

"But I don't want to know about herbs! I want to learn how to fight! I WANT to be a knight!"

Alan burst out laughing.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY!"

"If that's all that you're groaning about, then I'll teach you once Hand finishes educating you with herbs."

"REALLY!"

Hand replied thoughtfully from the front of the line, "If Alan doesn't mind, I don't. In fact I think it's a marvelous idea. Maybe I may even try sparring a little."

Arthur scoffed, "Teacher, I hate to sound offensive, but you are a shrimp…I could beat you in half a second."

Hand smiled, "Oh really…shall we make a bet then?"

"What sort of bet?"

"I fight you in a one on one spar. Loser gets to clean the dishes after supper."

"Done." _This is going to be the easiest win of my life!_

* * *

Later that day…

The trio had set up camp in a clearing that was split by a clear stream. The horses were tethered near the tent, and Alan was sitting in a lazy manner stoking the fire.

Arthur and Hand, however, were occupied with a certain bet. The two stood a small distance away from the campfire, closer to the stream. Hand was slightly bent, waiting expectantly for the charge she knew was coming. Arthur was busy spouting trash talk, "This is going to be so damn easy, but don't worry teacher, I won't hurt you too badly."

Alan sighed to himself as he began to count backwards from ten, "Ten…nine…eight…"

Arthur charged and was about to give Hand a strong right to the face. But she ducked with a small smirk and gave him a return punch straight to the gut.

"…seven…six…five…"

Just as Arthur coughed and reeled backwards from the shock, Hand knocked his feet from under him and put her foot on his chest to stop him from trying to regain his footing.

Alan gave a small chuckle, "Well, that was over faster than I had expected."

Hand smirked once more as uttered four words before removing her foot from Arthur's chest, "I believe I win." Without another comment, she walked into the tent to grab some vegetables, and a pot, for a stew.

* * *

Hand

The stars shone in multitudes and the stream shimmered with the reflection of the luminescent moonlight. The long grass took on a silver sheen. The smoke from the dying embers of the fire spread a woody scent through the campsite. All was peaceful; and in a way…nostalgic.

_This peace, I wish it could go on like this forever…well it would be peaceful if it wasn't for that horrendous scrubbing noise, _"HEY STUDENT! Scrub more quietly!"

"WELL IF YOU WANT IT DONE QUIETLY THAN DO IT YOURSELF!"

Hand grinned under her hood and popped Arthur on the back of the head as he bent over the stream, scrubbing out the pots, "WHAT WAS THAT STUDENT!"

Arthur made to punch Hand in vengeance, "DAMN BASTARD!"

This time it was Alan who hit Arthur on the back of his head, as he emerged from the tent, "OI! Respect your elders. You have no right to complain. You made that deal with Hand fair and square. It's not Hand's fault you can't back up your words. You lost and that's that. In fact you lost before the second move. So don't take out your frustration on Hand. I don't know what he plans on teaching you, but the first lesson you'll learn from me is that comrades are precious. Don't take them for granted."

Arthur grumbled, but grudgingly went back to scrubbing.

Hand grinned again, but had the presence of mind to not laugh out loud. It wasn't nice of a teacher to provoke her student.

_Thank you, dear God, Heavenly Father. I am truly blessed. I have riches more than any king. My brother, the only family left to me, is young, and strong, with a bright future ahead of him. I have a friend in Alan that I'd never thought I'd find. Despite the uncertainties in this world I know that my life is a joyous one…_

Alan called her attention from her thoughts, "Hey, look…"

The heavens were caressed by shooting stars, as the shimmering comets seemed to chase a distant specter over the horizon. Even Arthur, who had finished the dishes, opened his mouth in awe as he saw the beauty of the night sky.

"Master…?" Arthur's voice held complete awe.

"Yes, my student…"

"Is this a dream…?"

"No, my dear student…this is just another of the forgotten miracles few care to see in this world…"

"Why would anyone choose not to see such a miracle…?"

"Many like to think they don't have the time…"

Arthur gulped in wonder as he watched the magnificent starlight play upon his skin, and tenderly bath the clearing, "I hope I shall never be too busy to gaze upon such miracles, master."

Hand smiled under her hood, "Young Arthur…we both hope."

Alan wore a broad smile on his face as he watched, "You know, when I was a child, I saw such a sight with my father. He told me that all the stars were angels. They burned bright in the night to guide us mortals through the darkness. When a star falls, it means that the angels are calling to some brave soul, and are trying to guide him on his destiny. When the angels fly across the sky, they're pointing the soul to his destiny."

Hand responded with respect, "Your father must be a very wise man."

Alan looked away in regret, "No, just a poor man, who put too much hope on a worthless son."

Hand put her hand on his shoulder, "Anyone who can see so much beauty in the simple things…is a wise man indeed. But even a wise man, is capable of mislabeling someone. I believe that a man's worth is measured by his character, and his actions. I see no worthless people in our midst."

Alan smiled as a silent thank you, and would have voiced the words as well, had not Arthur's laugh interrupted them, "Hey guys, come here!"

He was romping through the field chasing the fireflies that had emerged. The small insects glowed brightly, not dulling the beauty of the stars, but rather accentuating it.

Hand laughed and grabbed Alan's hand as she called, "Come on."

Alan laughed and smiled with an essence of kindness that only he could portray as he broke free of Hand's grasp and ran past her, futilely chasing, and jumping after the fireflies.

Hand smiled with warmth and chased after him. _The fireflies fly around him; making him look wreathed by a golden light. Even though he is a soldier, his features are always kind. Just looking at him makes me want to smile…_

Suddenly, Arthur's voice broke her thoughts, "Think fast Master!"

He barreled into her from behind and the two fell in a laughing heap.

"OH YOU LITTLE WRETCH!" But Hand's words held no malice in them.

"Well I had to pay you back for earlier somehow." Arthur's face lit up with a kind of happy snicker as he stood. The shaggy hair, was messy and out of his face. For the first time Hand was able to look her brother in the eyes. The amber brown orbs were discolored with the moon and starlight. _For all he is: whiner, complainer, bully, and brat; he has a good soul. This is truly the boy who will be king. I will see to that. But my dear brother, I regret that you will never fathom your potential until the day comes. I want to tell you so badly that you are destined for better things than the role of a meager tavern boy, or a mere knight. Yet if I do, I fear your dreams will crash around you if I should fail…_

Alan came out of nowhere with a playful roar as he tackled Arthur to the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Arthur laughed as he kicked Alan off.

Alan shrugged sheepishly as he sat there scratching his head, "Well, you tackled Hand, and I AM his personal guard. So I got you back."

Arthur got a mischievous gleam in his eye, "Oh, it is so on…"

Arthur and Alan got into a wrestling fight as Hand laughed with uncontrollable mirth. _I am truly blessed…_

* * *

Alan

…the next morning…

Alan woke as the first bird songs of dawn broke. For a moment he allowed himself to think of the previous night. _My friends, my comrades, if only things could be as simple as this forever… _Then he realized that the space to his right was empty. Hand wasn't in the tent.

Without disturbing Arthur, Alan got up to go outside. The chill morning air brought him fully to his senses. He looked around frantically, only to almost have a heart attack as Hand tapped his shoulder from behind. He whirled; but didn't say a word when he saw the finger Hand held to her lips. She motioned for him to follow her down to the stream.

She bent down over the water and muttered, "Arthur finished his watch halfway through the night, and I had woken up already, so I took last watch. You had a tough time of setting up camp, so I didn't think it right to wake you."

Alan brushed it off with a shrug, "No problem. I wouldn't have minded if you had woken me though."

Hand whispered as she cupped some stream water in her hands, "Alan, do you think you can begin training Arthur with fighting today?"

"Sure. Not a problem." Alan had caught on to the fact something was wrong, but he knew better than to show it.

"We have some unwanted eyes on us; I'm going to take care of them."

Without raising his voice, or even acknowledging that the meaning of his words were grave, Alan replied, "Then I'm going with you. Arthur can watch the camp."

"No…"

"I'm your personal guard."

"Alan, please…the ones who watch us know we are here. This will be where they expect people to be. If they attack, and Arthur is here alone…the kid will get himself killed. I know how to hide myself in the forest. I'll be safer alone this time. I am trusting Arthur's life to you. He's your student as well as mine. Please…"

Alan sighed, "Oi, Oi…you sound like a worried woman. Relax, I'll train the kid today. Just make me a promise before you go… promise me you'll come back; Rendu would have my hide if something befell you. Not to mention Savric would rip me to shreds the second Rendu was finished"

"You have my word." With that, Hand slipped away. Her dark brown cloak made her harder to spot, in the half-light of dawn. She hoped she made it to the wood fringe before the watching eyes caught sight of her.

* * *

Arthur

Arthur was running once more through the realm of dreams. This time, he was in the great hall, and he watched as the king's justice was dished out. Then in a flash of light, he was in his mother's chambers and she was crying on the floor, bruised and beaten as a result of Uther's anger, while the soldiers drug in a man and threw him at the feet of Uther Pendragon. In another flash, Arthur was walking down a long corridor, and a sickly looking man walked past him, a knowing and malicious grin upon his face. Then another flash, and he felt the heat of flames as he ran and ran and ran. He ran until he was about to collapse, but still he ran. He was following after the girl he hated and an old man.

He mumbled, and squirmed, but he did not wake. Thankfully, a soft darkness enclosed around him as he finally slept peacefully.

Once dawn had finally made its appearance Alan yelled, "WAKE UP STUDENT! YOU'VE GOT BATTLE PRACTICE!"

Arthur groaned as he rolled over in his bed, "You've got to be kidding me… AHHHHHH…"

Alan physically grabbed him and yanked him out of bed, "UP! NOW! OR I WILL THROW YOU IN THE STREAM."

Arthur was up and at attention in no time, "YES SIR!"

Alan laughed, "That's more like it."

He led Arthur out of the tent, and picked up the two staffs he had waiting. Arthur caught the one Alan threw to him clumsily, _oh great, Hand pummels me with merlin tricks, and Alan just flat out pummels me to a pulp. I'm not surviving this trip…_

Alan got into an attack stance, "Alright, lesson number two…anything, if used properly…can be a weapon. A staff can beat a sword if the wielder knows what he is doing. Today, you practice with a staff. Your goal: knock me off my feet."

Arthur got a tighter grip on his staff and gulped.

"Well? Aren't you going to attack me student?" Alan asked with a teasing smile.

Arthur spit back, "Shut it, I'll attack when I feel like it." With that Arthur charged straight for Alan. Alan's staff shot out like lightning, hitting Arthur first in the stomach, then knocking his feet out from under him. Arthur crumpled to the ground like a deflated balloon.

Alan smiled with sympathy, "Teacher one, student zero. … I know you're in pain Arthur. But remember this. In battle, you'll take blows, you'll feel pain. But if you don't want to die you'll fight in spite of that. When other peoples' lives rest on your shoulders, you can't afford to lose your concentration to trivial things. Master the art of endurance, and you've mastered half the lesson."

Arthur struggled to get to his feet, but again gripped his staff. He breathed heavily, "What's the other half of the lesson?"

Alan smiled wider, "Being skillful enough to be the one doing the pummeling."

Arthur lunged again, and the two trained hard and long, until the sun was high in the sky. _Hand, you promised me. You better come back…_

* * *

Hand

"OI! WHY YOUSE STOP!" The insolent little boy questioned Mon the Merlin .

The Merlin just laughed it off and quaffed down more cider, "Well, young one, I was wondering why you hadn't interrupted yet…"

The boy backed down sheepishly and mumbled a curt apology.

Mon chuckled, "No need to apologize, those who have the wisdom to question gain the knowledge to soar in life. And those that have the wisdom to keep quiet have the ability to overhear all they never thought they'd need to know."

"I'm a not a gonna even try ta unda-stand that!"

This time the whole tavern joined in Mon's laughter.

With one more draft of cider the Merlin gave a sigh of contentment and continued the tale…

* * *

The bright gray rays of dawn found Hand deep into the unnamed forest. _I should have reminded Alan to feed the horses before I left…oh great…I am in a life and death situation, and I am still managing to think about things I forgot to say to Alan. I admire a sense of irony; but this is over doing it. DAMN IT! Now I'm berating myself! OK…I'm focused…focus…sense my surroundings…I'm so dead…I must have an entire village on my tail…_

Hand crouched with her back to a large tree to catch her breath. Now she heard her pursuers…_Forgive me if I don't come back Alan; but I knew from the start that they'd see me if I went out alone. I know you're supposed to be my personal guard…but Arthur's life is more important than mine at this moment…_

Hand steadied her breathing. She could hear the shuffle of feet… and the subtle scratch of arrow quivers as they jostled on running backs. Then suddenly, just when the noise was at its loudest, everything grew quiet.

Hand sighed, _better I go down fighting than with a sword in my belly, and my back to a tree. _With that thought, she jumped out from her hiding place. She was surrounded in less than an instant.

"What cowards attack one alone?" Hand stated blatantly; in an attempt to buy herself some time to size up the situation.

One boy, he seemed to be Hand's age. He was big boned and rugged of face. He roared, "What nerve someone like you has to be calling us cowards!" He lunged at Hand; drawing the sword at his belt…he aimed for her throat.

In that one instant that Hand decided whether to kill him, or merely dodge, the boy's voice triggered unwanted memories in her head. The memories she had spent years trying to bury…

* * *

It was summer, that last summer before her world came crashing down around her. The castle courtyard was a place where homey smells, and bright sun caused constant cheer. A boy with a larger than normal nose, and buzz cut hair, was getting into a brawl with some of the other page boys. Another boy, tall for his age, and lanky, with jet black hair and eyes, was laughing and conversing with the girl that was Hand as a child, "That idiot! He'll never learn!"

The other boy had heard, and finished with his previous brawl, proceeded to tussle with the lanky boy, "What was that? Eh? Who were you calling an idiot!"

The tall boy's voice dripped sarcasm, "How did you know I was talking about you? Was it the 'he'll never learn' or the 'idiot'?"

The girl, who was dressed in a tunic and breeches, was rolling with laughter. But immediately stopped when she heard a more feminine voice call for her, "…Hey, come on! Your Gram said we could go play today!"

The voice belonged to a pale skinned girl with honey blonde hair, and brown eyes. "COMING MIRA!" That happy little Hand replied as she bid goodbye to the still fighting boys.

When she caught up with her friend, the young servant girl laughed, "You know Mira… I was just thinking…I sure am lucky to have a friend like you. You know, why do you hang out with me? Your parents are of high prestige in the village, the house of the boar, right? You are Mira Boar. You will be a great lady in your own right. Why would you waste your time with a nameless one?"

As the two walked out of the castle gates, to go frolic and play in the meadow, Mira laughed, "You aren't nameless, your name is…"

"Quiet! Don't finish that sentence. You know I'd get in trouble if anyone heard you call me that."

Mira huffed in a pout, "Have it your way." Then she laughed and hugged the young Hand, "But you're my friend because you're my friend…and we'll be friends, always."

"Thanks, Mira."

"You know, I don't see why you have to be a servant. Your mom is the queen."

The young Hand plopped back onto the meadow, and gazed up to the clouds, "So what? That idiot Charles was born to Uther's first wife. My mom, wasn't supposed to have me. So when the marriage pact with Uther was signed, it was never mentioned that I had even existed. You know such things are bad news in the royal lines. So my existence was kept a secret. I am quite happy being raised by my Grandparents, as a servant here. You know it's risky to even to be a servant for _her_. She loves me, but if anyone found out that Uther wasn't her first, we'd have problems."

The young Hand continued, "By the way, how did you ever manage to find that out? I don't believe I was the first one to tell you."

Mira giggled, "You mean you don't know? You do carry a legitimate name. Your house had great influence, why else would Uther sign a marriage pact with your mother? My grandmother was great friends with yours. My dad knows many of your family. I hear things." She seemed to be proud of that fact.

Hand shook her head as she smiled, "Power is way too complicated in my opinion. True, my family had power. But, most of my immediate family is either old, stripped of their titles, or dead. It is so much more fun when you don't have to live your life under scrutiny. I've seen how the daughters of the high households act. They have to wear DRESSES! Not to mention they always have to be perfect! I can't understand how they can even deal with such torture. Truth be told, you're one of the few of them I know that actually knows how to be more than what society wants to make you."

Mira laid down on the grass as well, "Society is over rated…"

* * *

Hand dropped to the ground and kicked out with her leg. She barely dodged the steel that sought her lifeblood, and her quick thinking made the boy trip and fall to the dust. The boy was about to get up and lunge for another attack when a voice, stern and strong, stayed his hand.

"Peace, Thomas…" the voice then addressed Hand, "My name is Philip. I am one of the commanders of this band of renegades. You have met my brother in arms, Thomas, he is a commander also. And, you…you are the Merlin called Hand are you not."

A man of tall stature, with a sharp eyes and tattered clothes, emerged from the crowd. He had a long bow and quiver on his back, his hair was a slightly duller black, and his eyes were not as carefree as Hand remembered.

Hand merely nodded.

"Forgive my comrade his outburst…"

"But Philip…!" The raging boy had to be held back as he tried to lunge at Hand.

"HUSH! Do not disgrace your brothers more than you have." Again he returned to addressing Hand, "Forgive the fright we gave you. But I had to see for myself, what some are calling the answer to their prayers."

Hand judged Philip to still be a friend. "Stick around long enough, Philip, and you'll gaze into the eyes of a dragon."

"I was under the impression that the dragons were all slain."

"Aye…but dragons are creatures protected by magic. They have a way of flying to heights unexpected."

Philip turned to speak to someone in the crowd, "So the words you told me were true, old man."

The wizened person who came into Hand's view was the old one she had saved from Rendu's guards. He smiled at her, "Forgive me for blabbing my old mouth, lad. But I couldn't contain such good news. I was careful to only tell those who could be of use to you."

Hand assured him, "What shall I forgive you for? There is nothing to forgive. You have done wonderfully in your actions. By the way, how is Reeve, the farmer boy who displeased Rendu that day as well?"

The old man replied cheerily, "Oh, I'd imagine he's still breaking his back to work the fields. But the lad may not be on bad terms for long. His green thumb is helping to improve the crops this year. It promises to be a good year."

Philip took over the conversation again before hand could reply, "As renegades we have little to offer. However, it twould be an honor if ye'd come to a celebration at our hide out. There'll be drinks, music, and a joyous time."

_I may be a naïve person, but I don't think he'll cause harm to my brother…_ Hand smirked and clasped Philips hand in agreement, "Alright, I accept your invitation. However the young dragon hasn't discovered he can breathe fire. I don't think it wise to reveal his destiny until…"

"I understand your desire to protect him. But you are letting your emotions blind you. I know he is your student, but if you tell him later, or he finds out from another, he will grow to hate you. If you tell him now, he will become stronger. A dragon triumphs in the flames."

Hand frowned under the cover of her cloak, _As blunt and to the point as ever, old friend…_"With all do respect, Philip, I believe I will tell him when he is ready."

Philip got a tone that meant he would have no argument, "With all do respect my friend, you'll tell him your way, or I'll tell him mine. I won't have my renegades button their lips when the only reason they have to shout and cheer will be walking amongst them this night. Or do you think the dragon youngling you watch over is so thick headed that he won't realize that the cheering is all for him?"

Hand was backed into a corner, _the last seven years have harned his heart greatly. There isn't much of a trace of the laughing strategist I once knew. Was I right to trust him? But there's no going back now. He could still have me killed with one word. _With a sigh, Hand replied, "I will tell him. But I will do it MY way. Is that much clear to you Philip?"

The tension in the air was evident, but suddenly Philip broke out in a laugh, "Have at your way…Hand. At least we've reached an agreement."

_OK, maybe he hasn't changed… he still managed to get the last word…_

* * *

Hand noticed that Philip, Thomas, and herself were far ahead of the others. In the pit of her stomach, she began to feel uneasy…

Just as Hand remembered, as always, it was Thomas who broke the silence, "I truly do apologize for earlier. It's just…I can't stand king's men. Even if you are only pretending to serve that vile man…"

_As rebellious and hasty as ever. You are still that lovable hot head I recall. _Hand laughed, "I hope that one day, being a man of the king will once again bear some honor."

Thomas chuckled sheepishly, "Yeah, I guess it was a foolish outburst."

Philip picked up where they both left off, "Hand, I am curious as to how you are going to reveal to the dragon its flame. But I will leave such matters to you, as I promised. But I am not too prudent a one to avoid asking you this question. What do you seek by teaching the young dragon? What will you gain from it? If anything… you are in grave danger every moment you spend with your ward."

"I have pure reasons, reasons that are beyond the comprehension of those who do not know the entire epic of the young dragon's life. Reasons I am bound to keep silent, for risk of becoming what I vowed never to be once I donned the Merlin's cloak."

Philip's voice came back, filled with emotion… "I believe I understand your reasons…I understand more than you think. Don't think I haven't noticed…you knew me, and you knew Thomas. You could have done so much worse to Thomas when he attacked you, and yet you did nothing more than trip him…"

Thomas interrupted with emotion in his own voice, "My friend, so many may see Hand the lad. But now that I know it's you… I see…well I know you'd kill me if I said your true name, your birth name, out loud…but I see the lass. We were kids together…I couldn't forget you…I thought you were dead."

Hand shook her head in bewilderment, _Damn the fools, but they're my fools. My dear friends. I guess in the end, I couldn't completely erase my past. Unfortunately, they and Mira both know Arthur is my brother. But, on the upside, Mira is probably safe in her parent's home, or in a village somewhere. So that's only two to worry over…But oh Mira…it would be nice to see you again…to hear your laugh…and hear you berate me over my naiveté. _

Hand touched her hand to her face to make sure her face was dry. She could feel the tears that refused to fall moistening her eyes, "I thought…" She shook her head, "I thought you two were lost to me on that night. How…how…did you make it out alive?"

Thomas smiled and threw his arm over her shoulder, "You know us! We're unbeatable remember?"

Hand laughed, "Yeah, I remember…Philip and Thomas, the cold calculator and the hot head; the unbeatable team…"

Philip interrupted as he threw his arm over her shoulder from her other side, "And don't forget, the quick witted mediator, who always kept us out of trouble."

* * *

Arthur

The sun was dropping from its throne in the middle of the sky. Arthur was all but passed out on the ground. His chest heaved with the effort of each breath, and sweat poured off of his brow.

Alan laughed…

Only to be rounded upon, by a still prone Arthur, "You…bastard…what…gives you…the right…ta laugh!"

Alan struggled to keep his mirth under control, "Easy kid, I meant no offense, It's just, this reminds me so much of my own training. Though, I was put through far more rigorous training than this…"

"YOU MEAN…IT…CAN BE…WORSE!"

"Oh, aye…" The sound of cracking underbrush made Alan stop midsentence as his eye snapped to focus on the far off wall of forest.

Hand's distant voice quelled his fears, even though he grew agitated again when he saw a veritable horde following her… "Alan! Arthur! I have some things to discuss with you!"

Alan immediately began to analyze the situation for any sign of a threat to Hand's person. The words she spoke held a great sense of foreboding to him. But he suppressed his disdain for the situation once he saw Hand walking towards him, and the mob of renegades hanging back.

* * *

In the secrecy of the tent, Hand conversed with both Alan, and a sweaty and tired Arthur…

"I fear you two may despise me for what I am about to tell you…no…don't interrupt…you both may know me as Hand, but my story goes back much farther. I only have time for a brief explanation. Arthur, I knew you when you were still covered in baby fat. I doubt you'd know me though; I always had my head down around you. That was the role of a nameless servant in the presence of the royal line…"

Arthur couldn't help but interrupt, "WAIT! ROYAL line? What are you trying to tell me here?" _No…no…it couldn't be…all those visions of that…those were dreams…nothing more…I'm a tavern boy…no…I could never be a king! But…I DO remember…I remember faint music, and great feasts, and fear…I remember the fear, the smell of the smoke…I always thought, no, HOPED that that was all just a nightmare. I always WANTED to believe that I was just a street orphan before Brumm took me in. I wanted to be a knight sure…but if I am a king, then my past wasn't a dream, it was REAL. That old man, and that servant girl…they saved my life…_

While Arthur was occupied with his thoughts, Hand was apologizing to Alan, "I am truly sorrow for dragging you into this. If you wish to back out now, I will not stop you."

Alan was taking it in stride, and replied calmly, "I'm not going anywhere. I don't really mind the idea of being a part of a new era. Truthfully, I figured something like this must be going on..."

Hand questioned with curiosity, "How could you have guessed?"

"Simple, you're a naïve lad; that is FAR TOO EASY to read. A merlin taking interest in a seemingly worthless boy; and interfering with a punishment in order to protect a commoner; oh, and let's not forget, you've never complimented or honored Rendu once. Whenever you say something that COULD be taken for a complement, you always say 'true king' and never apply it directly to Rendu… what else was I to make of it? The only other scenario was that you were crazy." Alan replied with a smile that was more of a smirk.

Hand laughed, "I may just be crazy…"

Arthur interrupted, "WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! So…I'm a KING!" His voice held a new hope to it, a desire for it to be true.

"Aye. You are the true Pendragon. It is my duty as a merlin to protect you, with my life if need be."

Alan added his own piece, "I've never been a fervent admirer of our dear king Rendu. I vowed to protect Hand; and since Hand is bound to you, I am bound to you as well." Alan knelt to present his sword to Arthur, "As a teacher, and as a protector, my life and sword are yours." After a short pause Alan continued as he met Arthur's gaze, "But remember, my loyalty does have a limit. My first vows were to Hand, and that shall always remain. I will do nothing to betray you, but just the same, I will do nothing to betray Hand, or the nameless one, or whatever name this crazy merlin may go by."

Arthur responded unsurely, "Yeah…sure…thanks. You can get up you know."

Alan got up with a laugh, "What a king I've chosen to follow." He turned to Hand, "I'm guessing the renegades are up to date with all of this?"

"Aye, they intend to throw a celebration at their hideout. Their leaders are old friends of mine. We can trust them."

Alan scratched his head in silent debate as he responded with a grunt, "I'll take your word for it…"


	4. A Knight in Shining Armor

Alan

Despite the apologies of Philip and Thomas about the scant provisions; the feast promised to be a grand one. The setting sun was setting the western horizon ablaze by the time the preparations were complete. The renegade hideout was deep inside a cave. The cave's entrance was merely a sliver in the side of a cliff, and was completely hidden by vegetation. But, the belly of the cave opened out, and was so large; it could have housed three villages with ease.

The cave was lit with crude lanterns, and torches. However, the main light came from a huge hole in the cave ceiling. It was almost perfectly round, and through it, precious sun rays bathed the interior of the cave.

Alan had remained mute the entire journey, and even now, he was silently observing his surroundings. His master was busy conversing with Philip and Thomas, and introducing Arthur to the curious spectators. Alan didn't think politics had much to do with him; so he merely kept his eye open for threats.

_Oi, oi, how did I manage to become the body guard to such a person? But then, if it wasn't for Hand, I would still be a page. I owe him my life, though he doesn't realize it. I mean, it could be worse right? There are far more high maintenance people out there that I could have been stuck with. Hand may look weak, but he knows how to take care of himself. He proved that when he knocked Arthur flat. Though, Hand is far too trusting for his own good. It's almost like he's a little girl, taking any hand proffered. I wonder…he worries too much…he's naïve…far too secretive…come to think of it; I haven't even seen Hand take a leak. _

Alan had to stop himself from laughing at his suspicions. His eye fell upon Hand, as she talked to the renegades. There were women amongst the rebels. All of the younger ones were fawning over Arthur like love struck doves. Alan even saw one sidle up to Hand, and flutter her eyes, oh so mentally noted the girl's appearance with disinterest,_ - red haired, short, defined cheekbones, and delicate curves._

Then, after the half second it took for him to look the girl over, his eye flicked back over to Hand. Hand was polite, oh so polite… and even went so far as to shake the girl's hand. But, every single advance the girl made, Hand COMPLETELY ignored.

Alan raised his eyebrows in suspicion. _Now, it could just be that my master is shy, or it could be the fact that merlin's aren't supposed to have relationships. But, I need to chalk this little encounter up on my list of suspicions towards my master's gender. Come to think of it, if my master were a girl…wouldn't it be difficult for her to keep her upper chest from revealing her? COME TO THINK OF IT…Hand normally keeps his cloak pulled close about him. Loose clothing could hide evidence very well…_

Hand's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "ALAN!"

"Sorry, what was that?"

Hand sighed, "Come on, they're starting the feast. Philip wants to toast to Arthur, and present him with the renegades' swords."

Alan nodded as he followed after his master. His suspicions momentarily suppressed.

* * *

Arthur

The spread on that long table, underneath the fading light of the sunset and in the caress of the torches, was a magnificent one by any standards. Arthur had a silent suspicion that the renegades had sacrificed much of their stores for this one event. It made him feel just a little guilty that it was for his sake.

But he didn't speak out about it. He sat in the place of honor; in the highest chair, between Philip and Thomas. By both commanders flanking him, it symbolized that they were his protection and followers, maybe equals, but never betters.

Hand, and Alan, were watching from afar. They were both observing from the sidelines. Close enough to the tables to catch any threat; but far enough away so as not to be caught off guard.

Philip stood and raised his tankard, "To the true Pendragon!"

The entire presence echoed the cry, "THE TRUE PENDRAGON!"

After the cheering died down, Thomas began his own speech, "We have long awaited this day! The day when someone would come to claim the throne! A day when someone would get that piece of dung trash off of the royal chair! Now we have been presented with that chance! The young Pendragon is here! Our anger has smoldered like the ashes from that treacherous fire; faint embers refusing to die!"

There were great cries of agreement. But before things got out of hand, Philip spoke up, "Aye! We have long awaited this day! So I say that we shall wait longer! We shall let the ashes take the flame from the sparks that have fallen today! We will protect the dragon youngling! We will watch over this hopeful flame until he can roar and make an enferno!"

With that, Philip and Thomas both drew their swords, and they knelt at Arthur's feet. Both spoke in unison… "Our swords and souls are yours, to do with as you will…The renegades shall only rebel when we hear the orders from you or your counselors. You command us, mighty dragon; let the great Lord in heaven protect you." Of course, their vows were mere formalities. Their allegiance had already been engraved into their hearts the day Rendu betrayed them all.

The cheers were deafening. The tankards clinked against each other. The feast began, and merriment reigned over everyone.

* * *

Hand

Amidst the dying claps and cheers, Hand's attention was caught by the light tap of a finger upon her shoulder. She turned, and her body tensed in shock; as she stared into the face of one of her closest friends.

Mira pulled her away from the festivities. The feast had just begun, and the music was creating a wonderful aura. Hand could hear the noise of the celebration in the distance, as Mira led her into a small tent towards the outskirts of the populated area of the cave.

For an awkward moment, Hand just stared at Mira with utter disbelief.

It was Mira who broke the silence as she plopped down upon a chair with a sigh, "Loosen up, jeese. You look like a deer in torchlight."

Hand got a tone of self-defense, "I have no idea who you are, you strange person."

Mira busted up laughing, slightly breaking the tension emanating from one edgy merlin, "Oh please. If those two idiot men can recognize you, don't you think I can? You're still the same…"

Hand interrupted before Mira could say her name out loud, "Say that name and see what happens…" Hand's voice held more humor than malice, and as much as she hated it, she was smiling as the words fell from her lips.

"That's a laugh; revenge is my specialty, not yours. Remember those few times you tried getting back at me? I had to do my special counter-revenge."

An involuntary shiver went up Hand's spine as she remembered how well _those_ incidents turned out. _Of course, YOU just have to be all smiles when you bring up THAT…_

With a sigh, Hand pulled back her hood in the presence of another for the first time in years, and rubbed the back of her head, "Oi, oi, I still have a bruised ego from your so-called counter-revenge. I know some who could be called cold hearted; but you don't have a soul at all…"

"HEY! Is that any way to treat your friend?"

Hand's tone softened as a tired smile lit up her face, "You know I'm only joking."

"Don't worry about it…now I just have two things to get back at you for…"

Hand laughed…but when Mira didn't laugh with her, she got a worried tinge to her voice, "You WERE joking…right…RIGHT?"

Mira just gave her a dark glare for about 5 seconds before suddenly brightening up and laughing, "Oh, you'll find out soon enough…"

Sensing her danger, Hand tried to change the subject, "So, how did you come to be with the renegade army? What about your family? The house of the boar? How did you even get permission from your family to do something as dangerous as this!"

"That night, my family wasn't present at Rendu's little bloody party. They are in hiding right now. I, I wanted to be where the action was, so I came. Come on, it's not like I could leave something as important as a rebellion up to Philip and Thomas!" A mischievous hint came to her voice, "Besides, one small threat here and there was quite helpful in making a point."

Hand couldn't help but cower away just a little, "I forgot how scary you could be…"

"Now, moving on…and more importantly…why are YOU here? I really am quite curious, and you know how I love your tales! But you can save that long tale for after you've rested. And how about those two you've got accompanying you? That one with the eye patch…what is his name again?"

"Alan?"

"Alan, yes that's it! He is quite the rogue now isn't he?"

Hand turned away and shrugged, in an attempt to hide the blush that crept over her cheeks. _Damn it Mira. I seriously wonder if you can read minds. You always manage to make me examine my innermost thoughts and feelings. You would think I would have out grown this little problem of emotion._

But Mira caught the blush. Even so, she continued without pause, "Oh, and who would have thought that the shaggy haired Pendragon who is being fawned over by almost every maiden in the renegade army is that same bad tempered child that always yelled at you. I really must wonder why you always spoke of him so fondly."

"Arthur has grown and matured a lot. He still has his moods, but he shows promise. With the proper guidance, I believe he will make a just king."

"Of course he will. He has you to teach him doesn't he? But wait…you are a good fighter and all; but your skills are in twin swords or logic…book worm stuff… not in the heavy metal, full on battle style, - or stupidity…" Mira managed to throw the insult in with just enough humor to discredit it, "…of a proper knight. Who is teaching the young Pendragon the ways of war?"

Hand's voice went high pitched and stressful, "I haven't gotten a chance to teach him strategy. For pity's sake I haven't gotten a chance to teach him much of anything. I've only been in Camelot for a little over a week! Cut me some slack here!" Hand sighed and continued in a lighter tone, "If you must know, Alan has agreed to train Arthur in battle. I trust him, he is a talented fighter. His sword is mellowed by compassion and mercy. He will give Arthur a far better lesson than the fiercest of warriors ever could."

Mira laughed, "Well, for you knowing Alan for only about a week, you seem to speak quite highly of him…"

"He's my bodyguard, I like to think highly of the person my life depends on…" _Wow, I got that out without a single stutter or blush. That was a colossal achievement in itself…_

But Hand found that she was talking to an empty chair. Her eyes darted about the room, and she pinpointed her friend digging through a worn wooden chest. But before she could register what was going on, her friend had her backed up against a wall of the tent and was blocking all means of escape. What Mira was holding in her hand was a beautiful dress. It was of earthy colors, and of the homespun, poorer, make of the hard times. But it was very far from being worthless rags…

"Put this on." Mira ordered with a mischievous smile.

Hand was visibly nervous, "Why?"

"Come on, you'll never enjoy the party as Hand; the Merlin of the Pendragon. Plus, you have been masquerading as a boy for far too long. I'll bet that you wow that handsome young body guard of yours the second you catch his eye…"

Hand interrupted in desperation, "Come on Mira, this is a joke right? You know dresses aren't my style. Besides, I'm a MERLIN; my identity isn't supposed to be known…"

"PUT…IT…ON." Mira wore a smile, but her voice dripped with so much threat, Hand felt a tremor of fear go up her spine…

"YES MIRA!"

_I owe you one my friend…you always could sense my hesitation and give me one hell of a wake-up call…_

* * *

Alan

_I wonder where Hand is…it isn't like him to run off. Oh well, I'm sure he is just monitoring the perimeter or something. _Alan allowed himself to relax for a moment, and just take in his surroundings…_who knew that I would end up being involved in something as grand and dangerous as all this. What makes this whole matter even harder to believe is the small fact that I've only been working with Hand a little over a week. Who knew I'd trust the guy enough to follow him into a rebellion? …I guess I am just a sucker for playing the good guy. A part of me still wants to be that knight in shining armor. Too bad I had the lesson - 'just being a good guy doesn't mean you're destined to win' - engraved into me by sword-point. _

He couldn't help but smile as his thoughts continued…_ but, that's the magnificence of being in such a large group. The weaknesses of one are always countered by the comrade next to him. It's not just one spark, it's millions of tiny specks of hope blazing into an inferno. This particular fire Hand has started has to be kindled for awhile yet; but when it does unleash itself…it won't lose._

Alan's thoughts were scattered as he began to focus more on the people of the celebration…_they all are one person…all were lost, but were suddenly pulled from darkness as hope swelled their hearts…_

Men and women were dancing to the beat of the drums and flutes. Curses were traded in good humor, and not a single act of violence was made. How could violence be made? When everything had such an aura of compassion and unity…

Then, a figure caught Alan's eye…_this one seems out of place…_his eye focused upon the figure of a girl, with light tan skin, and braided dark brown hair. A beautiful earthy colored dress complimented her figure. The dress went down to her ankles, and the main body was a woody green. The girl wore an off-white tunic underneath the short sleeve dress. The effect was actually quite a nice touch.

Alan continued his mental assessment…_she seems more nervous, more unsure of herself, than most. She doesn't seem threatening. Wait, is she coming this way? She's clasping her hands together, and is she blushing? Torch light and moonlight are not the best for accurate assessments based on vision…_

Before Alan could ponder further, the girl was standing in front of him… "Hi, you're Alan, right? The one who came here with the young Pendragon?"

_Oh…she probably wants me to introduce her to Arthur…that would explain some things. Oi, oi…I guess it costs me nothing to at least be courteous to her._

"Aye, and what would your name be?"

Alan couldn't help but be mildly amused with the girl's hesitation, and he smiled, "You do have a name, don't you?"

"I was never given a name…but, you can call me Mon."

_She must have been a servant back when Uther was king then. If so, I can understand her hesitation…a nameless one doesn't count for much in this world. …_Alan clenched his fists… _that always did infuriate me…servants are people too. I never understood all that nameless crap. Still, I suppose this just means Hand isn't the only one without a name. Wait, I wonder…short, out of place, maybe naïve, light tan, familiar voice…_

Alan laughed in an attempt to make the girl smile, "Alright then… I think that's a lovely name. Heh, I can barely think with all of this racket, want to go to someplace quieter?"

The girl's face lit up with a smile as she nodded in agreement.

Alan motioned for Mon to follow him away from the now slightly drunken crowd…

* * *

Mon

Mon breathed in deeply the sweet aroma of the night air. She sat at Alan's side, on top of the cliff that was home to the renegades. They had climbed up to where they could look down upon the faces of their new comrades from the sky light. In her heart, Mon knew that the carefree joy of tonight wouldn't last forever. Things would only get harder from this point forward. There was a strong chance that she would have to see her comrades die, or even die herself. But still, she couldn't help but feel a great happiness in her heart. It was like a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Her brother now had many to care for, teach, and protect him.

His safety no longer solely depended upon her.

She almost jumped out of her skin as she felt Alan's hand grasp her considerably smaller one.

Alan's body rumbled with a gentle laughter at her reaction, "…you know…this hand looks very familiar to me. Have we met before?"

Mon avoided the question, "You have never seen my face before."

A light seemed to brighten Alan's eye, "Is that so? You wouldn't be able to straighten that answer a little bit would you?"

"I did…"

Alan shook his head as he sighed, "Now, doesn't this bring back memories, master?"

"You're starting to scare me Alan…" Mon made to leave, but Alan jerked her back. Unfortunately, she ended up landing unintentionally in his lap, and cradled by his arms.

It was Alan's turn to blush, "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen…" Alan helped her to her feet as he stood also. But, he didn't let go of her hand.

"Master, or Hand, or Mon, or whoever you are. I…look…I have no clue why you'd hide the fact you're a girl…well I can guess, but I don't really know. Here, now, there is no audience but the waxing moon. Please, you chose me to protect you… remember? I ask nothing more than to know the truth. I want to help you in your quest…truly. Don't push me away. Don't leave me in the shadows. You can tell me anything. Think about it. Who the hell am I going to tell? Come on now, this is me…Blind Alan. Do you honestly think anyone would believe me even if I was STUPID enough to tell someone? You and I both know I'm not stupid. If I was stupid, I'd still be fooled, and we wouldn't be having this conversation…and don't give me that 'scaring me' crap. I know who you are, and you are not going to convince me I'm wrong."

Mon sighed and interrupted, "Alright…no more secrets; for you at least."

Mon motioned for Alan to sit back down and as she sat beside him, her hand still enclosed in his…she told him EVERYTHING. She told him what she knew of her birth all the way to when she first met him just over a week before; although she didn't bother telling him anything about after they met. Which meant that she didn't have to admit she might, maybe, DID, like him. After all, she still wasn't one hundred percent positive it was love.

By the time her story was finished, she was mentally drained, and a fair amount of time had passed. The noise from below them was slowly fading away as more and more fell into a blissful drunken sleep; or, at least they'd sleep blissfully until they woke up with killer migraines.

Alan was rigid, he never said a word. For a moment, Mon feared that he would hate her… "EEEP!" She let out a sort of squeak as Alan drew her into an embrace. His strong arms around her, and pulled her close.

Alan let out an amused chuckle, "Did you just 'EEEP'?"

Mon's muscles relaxed and she could resist the urge to burrow closer into Alan's embrace as she mumbled, "You startled me…that's all."

Alan smiled as he gazed down at her, "Then why are you blushing twenty shades of red?"

"How did you know!" Mon questioned with worry.

Alan laughed louder as he pulled her closer, "I didn't…you just confirmed that little detail yourself."

_Do I punch him or ignore him? _She did neither, instead, she disentangled herself from his warm grip and looked him in the eye, "Alan…to this world all I am is a nameless merlin. My duty is to protect the Young Dragon. I can't abandon that duty…"

Alan cut off her words with a kiss. It was sweet, innocent, and chaste. It was hardly more than a feather light touch of his lips to hers. But it was enough to send shivers down Mon's body. It also had the desired effect of quieting her.

Alan spoke his piece, "I've listened to you, now you listen to me. SO WHAT if you're a merlin. I've respected you since I first met you. I admired your spirit and in a way, I KNEW you were against Rendu. When I looked at you, I thought, _wow, this is the person my life belongs to; this naïve fool that acts more brotherly to me than my real brothers ever did. _Now that I know you are indeed a girl," He couldn't help but laugh as he spoke, "I can honestly say that I don't just like you anymore. I am quite positive I love you."

Mon couldn't help but point something out, "It could just be lust…"

"If it was JUST lust, then you'd know it by now."

Mon started to question him.

Alan sighed, "I know…it sounds so STUPID. I mean, I've only known you for a little over a week. But, you are the only person, the ONLY person… that looks at me and doesn't think of the missing eye. Before I met you, my daily conversations consisted of less than five words per encounter. When I was with you, I actually LAUGHED. In fact I'm laughing at almost every moment. I've never felt love before, but if what I'm feeling now isn't love then I don't know what is…"

Mon leaned back into Alan's embrace, "I'm not promising anything. But if I did love you like that…do you think we could make it work and still pull the rebellion off…"

Alan smiled as he leaned back onto the soft moss that covered their perch on the cliff, "I KNOW we can. When this rebellion succeeds, and that brother of yours is on the throne, I'm going to marry you."

Mon mumbled as she drifted into the realm of sleep, "This sounds too much like a fairy tale to be true…"

Alan mumbled drowsily, "If this is a fairy tale, then I guess that means I'm your knight in shining armor my little merlin."

* * *

"YUCK! THAT'S GROSS!" The insolent little boy ruined the moment. The women in the tavern harrumphed since the boy had interrupted their coos and sighs.

Mon the Merlin laughed and ruffled the boy's hair, "I aim to please, so I guess I'm going to have to get back to some battle plans and quickly…but, even a strong young lad like yourself can't begrudge a sensuous moment in the tale to all these gentle hearted souls present." Mon swept out a hand to point out the women in the tavern.

"I sa guess so…" The boy admitted reluctantly.

With a gulp of bubbly cider, Mon continued the tale…


	5. Disband the Rebels or Don't Return

Rendu

Rendu was running through a void of darkness. Wherever his feet fell, they sent ripples and sprays of deep crimson as if he were running upon a lake of blood. His breath dusted the air even though sweat dripped from his brow. Fear gripped at his chest. Everywhere he looked there was an image of his elder brother grinning madly; covered in royal robes drenched in lifeblood.

The specter laughed and smirked, "The price, the price. I paid, I paid. What of you? What of you? Brother dear? Brother dear? I was cruel. I was cruel. I died. I died. You murdered. You murdered. An eye for an eye, an eye for an eye. The price, the price."

Rendu fell to his knees screaming to the sound of Uther's laughter, "NO! NO! NO! Why are you in my head! I did nothing wrong! I am a just ruler! But the people won't let me rule them! I am the ruler by the divine right of God! The throne was given to me!"

Suddenly, flames surged through the shadows and he was engulfed by them. He went crashing and spinning until…he was face to face with another specter, a shadowed figure with its face hidden away by a cloak…the figure spoke… "Was the throne given to you, or taken by you? Killing is killing. All things have a price Rendu False Pendragon."

Rendu's face was drenched in sweat and his voice quaked with fear, "But…what have I done wrong! Everything I do is to hold the throne. It is the commoners! THEY have forced my hand! Uther was no kinder a king than I!"

"I am aware…Rendu, the poor bullied brother; Rendu, always overlooked. I am also aware that Uther was hardly a just king. But, people will always praise a past ruler highly when their current ruler's atrocities exceed the other's. And one thing remains Rendu False Pendragon: Uther has already paid his price. Yet your debt grows greater every moment you take a breath…but soon it will be collection day…I wonder, what the price you must pay shall be…" The wraith began to fade away.

"WAIT! Please! Wait!" Rendu shot bolt upright; he was drenched in a cold sweat. He had fallen asleep upon his throne.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a knock upon the door to the great hall and he composed himself with great effort before yelling in his most malicious tone, "WHAT IS IT!"

The nervous voice of a servant answered as the servant tentatively opened the door, "Sire, Hand has returned…"

* * *

Alan

The castle was looming ever closer as the two mounts plodded along at the behest of their riders. As the portcullis opened, the servants all cast their shy and wary glances upon the mysterious merlin, and the large satchel that hung from her back. Some were even so daring as to whisper crude remarks about sorcery and mystics under their breaths.

Alan murmured under his breath, "They sure do go all out on the homecoming, now don't they?"

Hand replied with a tinge of wariness in her voice, "It's not the gawking faces that I fear…I am more concerned with the glares of malice that I can't see."

"You're right; none of the knights are here…"

Right as they halted in the courtyard Rendu's voice broke the hush, "Welcome back my dear right hand. I was so worried about you. I trust that you have gathered all the herbs that you required."

Hand dismounted and knelt before Rendu, "I am honored to know that I was worried about. I am even more honored to be considered the hand to the true king."

"You flatter me, Hand." He motioned for Hand to follow him, "Come, come. Let that guard of yours tend to the horses…I have more pressing matters to discuss with you in my personal chambers."

Hand stood and turned to Alan, "You don't mind do you…?"

Rendu interrupted with malice in his voice, "HAND! You DO NOT ask for the desires of your servant! You ORDER them. Now follow me…"

Hand shot an apologetic glance at Alan from under her hood, but turned and followed after Rendu obediently.

Alan sighed as he dismounted and led the horses to the stable. _I don't mind taking care of the horses…but I DO mind leaving you alone with that monster. _

* * *

Arthur

The morn had progressed into the noon back at the renegade cave. Arthur was tired, sweaty, and lounging after his morning practice session with Thomas. Thomas was a far less forgiving teacher than Alan. It was as if he lost all sanity the moment a weapon was in his hands.

_I can't wait till Alan gets back…_Arthur winced just thinking of the uncountable number of bruises that were appearing all over his body.

"ARTHUR! Sit up straight!" Mira came out of nowhere and slapped Arthur on the back of the head.

"WHAT THE HELL WOMAN!"

Just to prove a point, Mira slapped him again, "I SAID sit up straight. A REAL King does not slouch no matter how tired he is."

"I AM FLIPPIN' EXHAUSTED! LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
Mira got a cruel sneer and gave Arthur a glare that could have killed, "I SAID DO NOT SLOUCH."

Arthur visibly gulped as he felt all the warmth drain from his body and a shiver of fear go up his spine. His back went rigid as a board.

Mira smiled in triumph, "Much better. Now, let us begin your REAL training," Mira sat down next to Arthur and proceeded to ask him trivia, and provide him with scenarios…

"Alright, now let's say that a peasant comes up to you seeking compensation for land he lost to a noble. What would you do?"

Arthur looked at her like she was stupid, "You're kidding right? If he wants his land back so much, he can go get it back himself."

Mira whacked him on the head and sighed, "We have a LONG way to go. It is a king's duty to defend the rights of ALL of his subjects. No noble is above the law, and while the noble must be reprimanded, so to must the peasant be compensated…moving on. Let's say that you are trying to seal an alliance with a powerful household. The head of the household offers you full support, finances, supplies, you name it and it's yours. However, there is a catch. A daughter of that particular house must be your queen to seal the agreement. The girl is of poor health and probably not able to successfully bear a child. What do you choose, wed the girl and gain the alliance, or seek a bride elsewhere and lose an ally?"

Arthur actually puzzled over this one for awhile, "Is this a war time or peace time?"

Mira smiled with satisfaction at Arthur's question, "Wartime."

"Then, I would take the marriage. I wouldn't have to consummate it, since I would be busy with battle, and an unconsummated marriage can be annulled later. I could always patch up relationships with the girl's family after the war was over."

"A difficult decision, but ultimately one that must be made; though I will tell you this, men may THINK that their daughters are just means to an end; but women have wills of their own. If you ever try to take, or use, or order, a woman against her will…many will find ways to get you back for it. I say this from personal knowledge. I myself would never even contemplate being second to a man. But of course the style nowadays is 'meek and innocent' what a bother! I must say though, that that scenario will never be proposed to you in that particular fashion. Therefore, you don't have to worry over it."

Arthur laughed nervously, disregarding Mira's last few words, as an image of a girl strangling him in his sleep popped into his head, "Yeah…thanks for the advice."

* * *

Hand

Rendu's personal quarters could have easily been extravagant at one time. But…with the only light in the room weaving its way in through the open window…Hand could still easily see the clutter and the mess. Books were scattered on the floor, some open, and a fine layer of dust was on every object present; it was all Hand could do not to sneeze.

_I know I'm not supposed to…but I am starting to feel genuine pity for this guy._

Rendu's voice broke into her thoughts, "Tell me Hand…what makes a kingdom weak?"

"Sire?"

"What is it that will make a kingdom fall to its knees?"

Hand replied hesitantly, "If the people are ruled unfairly…their disdain towards their ruler could throw the kingdom into ruin."

Rendu chuckled a deep throated and cruel laugh, "It is amazing to me that one so powerful could be so naïve! I thought you were smarter than that. It is only the harsh ruler than can ever truly hold together a kingdom. A kind king is far too soft. The commoners don't respect such a one and will never obey. It is only through fear that the peasantry can be controlled."

"I see…sire. Forgive me, my naïveté."

Rendu motioned Hand to look out of the window and down into the courtyard, "Think nothing of it my right hand. Look down there and tell me what you see."

"Of course sire…" Hand's gaze flitted over the area Rendu indicated, "I see the stable boys exercising the horses, and the pages training in the yard. I see the servants fetching the water for the evening meal and I see the servant children at play…"

Rendu interrupted, "You poor naïve boy. Worry not…your eyes will open soon enough. When you grow older…when you are betrayed…you will know what you TRULY see. What you see below you are worthless demons that would seek to profit off of every scrap of knowledge or freedom they obtain. There are far too many bugs to squish…but all are expendable. Not a single one worth paying attention to. In fact…it is not merely the flea bitten peasantry that can't be trusted…"

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up already and get to the point…and watch who you call flea bitten…not like you'll ever know, but I'm one of those 'flea bitten' peasants you are insulting._

Hand's momentary silent rant halted as Rendu continued after his pause, "Many that bear royal blood have proven their dark intentions. Uther was as despicable as they came…sliding a blade through his heart was the best thing I ever did…"

Her hood hid her shock as Hand froze in place. She couldn't believe Rendu was openly admitting it. That night was supposed to be the result of the Dane's invasion. If those that supported Rendu heard his words, there wouldn't be a sword left at his side.

"…and when Juliana finally fell, the blade of one of my soldiers sliding across her throat only after he had…"

Hand broke her freezed stance to tense suddenly and clench her fist around the stone frame of the window for support. She felt as if someone had just stabbed her heart. Hand bit her lip in frustration as anger burned inside her, _STOP IT…I don't want to hear anymore. She may have been a liar and worthless…and she may have abandoned me…but she was my mother…damn it! I don't want to hear how she died! STOP IT! PLEASE!_

In the short time that Rendu described the lady Juliana's death, Hand saw her memories of her mother flash before her eyes…

A small little girl laughed as she played and rolled in the meadow. A voice called her attention, "How are you doing today little one?"

Young Hand ran to the figure who was speaking, a woman with long dark brown hair that curled in small ringlets. The lady's silks were dyed a brilliant purple. A silver wolf head clasped a small silk cloak about the woman's frame.

"Lady Juliana!" the small child laughed.

Juliana sighed as if she was hurt. Slowly and softly she spoke the child's name in an inaudible whisper, "…you can call me mom, you know."

Little Hand just laughed, "As long as no one is listening then; mom."

Hand forced her memories back and focused on the conversation. Rendu was completely ignorant to the turmoil that had gone on inside the person at his side and continued without halt. Thankfully, he had at least changed the subject, "But such trivial things are not what I called you here for. Now…what I am about to impart to you is of the utmost importance. You have probably noticed that many of my knights are not present. Well, that is because rebellions have popped up in three of the largest villages in the realm. More and more people are beginning to doubt my rule. I have sent my strongest knights out to deal with the situation. But no matter how many I've sent it isn't helping. A raven came back just this morning carrying news of the defeat of some of my strongest men in a village to the north, Banewood. I am in dire need of your magic. I want you to go to the northern village, as well as two southern villages, Singwind and Dovewing. I want you to go and subdue the rebels for me. KILL THEM…if need be. Perhaps magic will prevail where force has not."

Hand suppressed her anger for the moment, only to replace it with shock at the realization of what Rendu wished her to do, "But sire…"

Rendu began to tense as she continued, "…for a merlin to use magic against civilians is unheard of…"

"NO! You will not refuse me this! You have the magic! USE it. As king I demolish any code that would prevent you from this task!"

Hand actually trembled from the sudden flare of anger in Rendu's voice, "Forgive me sire…I wasn't declining…I was just saying…but what about the knights. Won't getting saved by a merlin prove to be degrading for them? Shouldn't you give them more time?"

"I neither know nor care about the foolish pride of those worthless knights. They have already wasted enough time. Just make sure you take care of the rebels…and don't dare return until you've silenced all of them."

"Of course…sire." The fear rose like bile in Hand's throat as she left the king's chamber. _He has gone insane…and he grows crazier by the moment. How will I…how…how will I quiet the rebels…I…I could NEVER harm them…they are my true people…But if I don't…all the risk Arthur and the others have taken will have been for naught…_

* * *

Alan

Alan had just finished unsaddling the horses when a solemn voice made him turn, "Better re-saddle those horses. We've been given a task to complete."

Alan was about to make an annoyed remark when he noticed Hand's slumped posture and clenched fists. His eye softened in understanding. With a glance around the stable just to make sure no one was in the immediate vicinity. He grabbed Hand's hand and pulled her into one of the empty horse stalls. Out of the sight of prying eyes he pulled her hood back away from her face.

A deep anger rose inside him as he saw the redness in her eyes from her unshed tears and the worn and tired look to her face. He managed to calm himself enough to say in a soothing voice, "What happened…and why are we being sent out again so soon."

Hand breathed in deeply and sighed, "Rendu wants me to terminate the rebellions that have been popping up throughout the realm…starting with the village of Banewood."

"No problem then…"

"How can you say it's no problem?" Hand asked with sincere distress in her voice.

"Because…if all he said to do was to stop the rebellions…that doesn't mean we have to kill anyone."

Realization dawned on Hand and she gave Alan a quick embrace in thanks before she pulled her hood back over her head and went to saddle her mare.

Alan just stared at her for a few moments, momentarily content with the feeling of warmth in his chest, before he finally moved to re-saddle his gelding.

The nearest village containing rebels was a three day ride to the north. With any luck, the duo would be finished within the week and headed to one of the other two destinations.

The northern forests carried a colder tinge about them. They were more forlorn, and Alan couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, mixed with foreboding, as he took in the bare trunks and craggy rocks of the northlands. The night was falling on their second day and Alan decided that they should stop to set up camp.

The peace he felt as he carefully watched the meal upon the fire was strange. Hand and he hadn't even spoken to each other for their journey, but for some reason, he didn't need to hear her voice to know her thoughts.

The young merlin was sitting across the fire from him, her hood pulled back, and her eyes reflecting the glow of the flames. But something was in her gaze, something pained and strained.

Finally, with a concerned sigh, Alan broke the silence, "You know, Mon, if anything is bothering you, you can tell me."

She smiled half-heartedly, "I don't think it's something you'd care to hear about…"

Alan's eyebrow rose in a teasing challenge, "Try me."

Mon sighed, "It's about the conversation I had with Rendu…he…he pretty much described…how…my mother died."

Guilt hit Alan like a punch in the gut, "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…"

"It's alright. You know…my mother wasn't able to take me with her when she became queen. I was raised by my grandparents, who agreed to go with my mother as servants, provided she didn't try to harm me. I was a base born child that bore no name but the one my mother gave me in secret before she said her vows to Uther. All I got from her were passing glances and short words of encouragement when no other could hear. By all rights I should have hated her. But…I never could. She was my mom ya know…I never did have the heart to hold a grudge, and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't…I couldn't hate her.

What hurt the most though, was when I saw Arthur playing and felt the barrier between us. I knew he was my brother, but…to him I was a nobody…I was the girl that served his lady mother. You know, I think the fact that I served lady Juliana just served to drive a further rift between my brother and I. He hated our mother. She wasn't the most faithful queen, but Uther was just as rampant in his frivolous ways, granted he hid it better…"

Alan stood and stepped around the fire to stand at Mon's side. His hand gently caressed her cheek, "The lady Juliana died, yes, she is in the Lord God's embrace now. But even though Arthur does not know he shares your blood, he is still alive, and he needs you more than he knows. Don't wallow in your sorrow, or painful memories. Accept it, and release it. Don't let it weigh you down. It is as it must be."

Mon sighed, and let out her pent up grief, "Thanks Alan." She struggled to keep her composure and in the end, Alan smiled reassuringly as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Mon, you have nothing to thank me for…"

The smell of burning food interrupted their intimate moment and Mon laughed, "Well, I could thank you for dinner, but it seems you're having cooking troubles."

_Oh how I love her laugh! _ Alan's cheeks were dusted with a light red tinge as he smiled sheepishly, "Yeah…did I fail to mention that cooking is NOT one of my specialties?"

Mon sighed in happiness as she moved from Alan's embrace to remove the food from the fire and salvage what she could for their meal, "We'd better hurry and get to sleep…we've got a LONG day ahead of us tomorrow."

Alan mumbled under his breath as he too drifted to sleep, "Yeah, a very LONG day. More like a very DANGEROUS day filled with annoying courtesies and politics…"

* * *

Arthur

"I hate my life!" Arthur groaned as he struggled to get out of bed. The flea infested, straw stuffed, mattress in his very ragged tent was just too comfortable after his rough few days for him to leave it easily.

He groaned in frustration, and finally just decided to curl up tighter underneath his blanket and try to steal a few more minutes of sleep before his angry teachers came to drag him away from his needed rest. _I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my stupid damn forsaken life! Is it too damn late to go home!_

The morning light came in through the cave's skylight. It made its way through the loose tent flaps only to greet a worse for wear young dragon. As soon as the shuffling of feet about camp reached Arthur's ears he cursed and gave up. He rolled out of bed and collapsed to the hard ground with a loud crash as the blanket tangled up his legs.

_I am going to take this damn blanket and shove it up somebody's…_

A high pitched, and feminine voice blasted into his thoughts from just outside the tent, "Young Dragon…Ser Philip sent me to tell you that you will be excused from your practice session today. Ser Thomas and he have to see to some trouble in some of the neighboring villages."

Collecting himself as quickly as possible Arthur poked his head outside the tent and grumbled, "He just couldn't have told me that last night now could he?" as he mentally assessed the messenger that had been sent to him. The girl looked younger than he was, about thirteen, _Damn! I've never seen hair such a shiny black…it's like the wing of a raven! And her eyes…is it possible for obsidian eyes to be so tinged with silver? Heh, too bad though, she's still got the gangly features of a child._

The girl stuttered and blushed a couple shades of red (only partially due to the fact Arthur was staring at her). Arthur looked at her perplexed, until he finally noticed that he wore only his breeches.

He snorted in annoyance and sneered at the girl, "Well…thanks for telling me…I guess. So…out of curiosity, what the hell am I supposed to do today?"

Properly recovered from her original shock the girl continued, "Well…Lady Mira wished to see you after you break your fast…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…tell her I'll get there when I get there."

Mira's strong voice came out of nowhere as she whacked Arthur on the back of the head, "Forget the part about after you break your fast mister 'I'll get there when I get there'," She mimicked a high pitched complaining whine on the last part, "NOW! You will follow me, and go WITHOUT breakfast! I intend to POUND today's lesson into you so help me! The nerve of you treating a poor young lady in such a manner!"

Mira pulled Arthur away by the ear as she continued her rant.

"DAMN IT WOMAN! LET GO OF MY EAR!" Unfortunately Arthur's pleas fell on completely unmerciful ears.

* * *

Alan

Alan awoke at the break of dawn as the cries of the northern birds echoed through the forest. He stretched lazily and yawned, only to stop noticing a certain young merlin wasn't curled up by his side as she had been the night before. To be more precise, she wasn't in the tent at all.

_Oi, oi, now where could she have gone off to?_

The distant sound of dripping water caught his attention, and without a second thought he emerged from the tent to investigate. The cold air hit him hard, but not as hard as the image that would forever be burned into his mind…

* * *

Mon

It was before dawn when Mon had awoken. She snuggled deeper into Alan's side for just a moment as she imprinted the feeling of contentment into her mind. With a small sigh, she rolled away from him, taking great care not to disturb his sleep.

The cold air was a shock to her as she went outside to rebuild the fire; she was made for warm weather, not such cold winters as those of the north.

_When I go to greet the villagers, I shall go to them as Mon. I will not go to them as the hand of the king. Or as it were, the supposed hand of the WRONG king. _Hand thought to herself as she stretched and yawned. She almost gagged from the stench that greeted her as she raised her arms over her head. She sighed in a sudden realization…_Men may get away with poor hygiene, but if I am going to this village as Mon, then I'd better devise a way to bathe in this accursedly cold northland._

With the terrible realization, Mon set about melting some snow over the fire in order to at least be able to have a warm bath.

It was far too cold for Mon to take an authentic bath. So all she did was strip swiftly, while the sun was still asleep, beside the warmth of the fire. After she had sprinkled some cleansing salt powder on a soft cloth, and dipped it into the water, she proceeded to scrub the layers of dirt that had made their selves a home upon her skin away.

She sighed once more in relief as she washed the soap away and dried. She was almost safely dressed in her change of clothing(the dress Mira had lent her) when she suddenly heard the tent flap move…

* * *

Alan

Alan almost didn't register what he was seeing! Fortunately he had the presence of mind to stop gawking and whirl as quickly as he could. Part of the reason being he had never seen a woman in such attire, or lack there of. The other reason was he was actually very embarrassed by the situation.

_Calm thoughts, calm thoughts…do NOT think about what you just saw…_

Alan thinking to himself helped a small bit in calming him down. The freezing cold air that was battering him did the rest of the job of snapping him back to reality. By the time he heard laughing behind him he was back to normal.

He turned slowly, and cautiously, to see Mon standing in the same dress Mira had given her, with her cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

Alan gave Mon a questioning look, "Why are you laughing?"

Mon wiped a tear from her eye as she calmed her giggling, "Because…you're the only guy I know who would have turned around in this situation."

Alan blushed a bit as he shrugged sheepishly, "Well…I…uh." _How do I break it to her that I didn't know how else to react in this situation?_

Mon smiled sincerely as she began to pack up camp, "Thanks for turning around."

Alan moved quickly to help her, "Don't worry about it…"

The incorrigible little boy broke into the story AGAIN, "Why'a youse keep tellin all a the gushy stuff!"

The merlin got a patient smile and replied in a sing song voice, "Well…I just couldn't resist…and have you ever thought that maybe…all the stories about fairy tales and castles and knights, might have more to them than battles and blood. Trust me youngling, be happy for the trivial plights now…" The merlin's voice suddenly became as honed as steel, "For very soon our story won't be so trivial anymore."

The boy was visibly trembling as he stuttered, "I unda…unda…undastand!"

The merlin's smile could have melted stone, "Thank you."

Of course, the entire population of the tavern was struggling between laughter at the boy being disciplined in a roundabout way, and terror at the momentary intensity of the merlin's voice.

"Now, to continue…"

* * *

Arthur

Arthur and Mira were alone in a secluded grove near the Renegade cave. Arthur lounged lazily against a boulder as the soft sound of rustling leaves left a calmness to the area. Well, it was calm at least until Mira proceeded to berate him to an extent that she could only do when no one else was present…

"YOU STUPID BRAIN DEAD TROGLODITE! Hand asked me to make a king out of you, and you better get it DAMN STRAIGHT that I am going to do it! BUT MARK ME NOW YOU STUPID DRAGON HATCHLING! I swear to you that if you ever pull an egotistical and selfish stunt like what you pulled this morning again I will smack you upside that thick head of yours until you really do go brain dead!"

Arthur mumbled in annoyance and just lounged more against the boulder as he sneered, "What did my actions matter? She was a SERVANT, she is expected to behave as she did. I DON'T have to go out of my way to be kind to those who are already expected to be doing what they're doing…"

Mira looked at him incredulously, but then unceremoniously burst out laughing, "You mean Philip didn't tell you? Oh this is great! I swear…priceless! The young dragon, the stupid ungrateful brat that would be king, wasn't told of his future dragoness!"

Arthur's senses went on full alert, "WAIT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'Dragoness'?"

Mira wiped a tear of mirth from her eye as she calmed down, "That girl you mistook for a servant was none other than Guinevere of the Raven. Her father is a major supporter of the rebel army. If it wasn't for his wealth and support, we would be starving and weaponless. A marriage pact was a tidy little agreement that was made back when the rebellion first started. As it were, her father is now dead, and only young Guin and his fortunes remain with the renegade army. So don't try and dispute the matter now, since it is a lost cause. You have absolutely no say whatsoever in the matter."

"YOU MEAN THAT THAT KNOBBY KNEED AND GANGLY GIRL IS WHAT I HAVE TO WED!"

Mira got a harsh tone, "That is exactly what I mean. You WILL wed her, and bed her, and make little princes and princesses; all for the kingdom of course. Listen VERY closely Arthur. A king gives up anything that would benefit himself or his wants in favor of the needs and wants of the people. Guinevere is young, yes, but there are many knights and young soldiers who openly refer to her as the Raven Haired Beauty. Not to mention that she is strong and healthy enough to provide you heirs. She is a woman! Not some piece of meat that you can sample and throw back! She was promised to you before you were twelve years of age! Did you know that? For three years she was betrothed to somebody that she hadn't even set eyes upon! She knows how to sacrifice for others; do you? And believe you me, marrying her is hardly something that could be considered a sacrifice! It seems to me that she is the one who is getting the bad end of the deal. Come off of your high horse right now Arthur Pendragon, or I swear to you I will throw you off long before you have a chance to soil the throne your father sat!"

Arthur was shocked into silence, and he opened his mouth as if to reply. But for once in his life, he had no snide comment to spit back.

* * *

Rendu

_So much isn't going as I would have wished it. I have divine right. Why is it that my people do not heed the words I say? Why must they rebel against me and cause more blood to spill? Oh…so much blood. I can't free my hands from the stains. But a ruler must sacrifice…I must…sacrifice…_

The blood flowed freely down Rendu's arm, from the long horizontal cut upon his wrist. The blade was still wet with the scarlet drops, and the new wound joined with the old and fresh scars alike…

* * *

Alan

A scoundrel born, lithe, with curly fire red locks, and with eyes so amber that they appeared a sunset scarlet, grumbled in his dregs at a grungy northern tavern, "When Gendry…for seven hells…bloody when!"

The skinny and gaunt barkeep with his tousled black locks and scraggly short trimmed beard spat back with a tone tempered with annoyance, "When what Lancel!"

"When are we going to give Rendu what for! I'm bloody sick and tired of sitting round this one horse town! It's so damn cold here my balls are about froze off! Not to mention there's not a decent whore in sight!"

"LANCEL! Hear you me, you're a damn good sword, for a self-trained whelp, but the good people of this town don't deserve your foul talk."  
"Oh, and who are you to preach down to me like some high and mighty old merlin? You aren't wise enough to handle herbs, and you're hardly older than my twenty years, boy that you would call me."

"Now see here you…"

At that very moment the tavern door swung inward and a smooth, yet gruff, voice broke into the conversation of the only other two in the tavern, "Lower your voices please gentlemen, I heard ye from some distance, and I would hope that ye wouldn't be planning to add an obscenity to that sentence in the presence of a lady."

The voice was that of Alan, and the young lady at his side, with an amused smile on her face, the very short pieces of hair that escaped her braid framing her face, was none other than Mon.

Lancel looked Mon up and down from his seat, a smile of his own forming on his face, as Gendry apologized, "Forgive me my thoughtlessness lady. Though if a rogue such as I may ask…what brings a girl of the warmer climates as far…north as this?"

Mon smiled warmly as she answered without hesitation, "Is it that obvious I am of the south, good bar keep?"

Gendry attempted a modest jape as he replied, "Forgive me my quick assessment, but when one is accustomed to gruff, grumpy, and all-around irritable women of the north, the cheeriness of a southern lady is quite easily distinguishable."

Mon smiled with a hint of slyness as if she had just caught wind of a desired clue, "Ah, and for one who is supposedly a bar keep, you seem to have quite the developed vocabulary."

Gendry stumbled for words as he realized his misstep… but before he could reply Lancel interrupted for him as smooth as butter and as smug as a child who has found a stash of autumn apples, "This one here 'as a polished vocabulary because he fancies his'self a grand ole noble."

Hand sighed in mock disappointment, "Too bad for me then. I came here because I heard that many brave men have banded together here. I have heard that they speak of a new age."

The pleased smile that had previously been on Lancel's face disappeared as he replied, "Why would ye be seeking after such likes as that, dear lady?"

Mon got a serious undertone and coldness to her voice, "I bring a message, if it is indeed the leaders of the northern rebels that I address."

Lancel was the only one replying to Mon's comments now, "…and what lady would dare to bring news of such things? Methinks that ye are no ordinary southland lady. You speak with too much boldness…boldness only a woman of questionable work would dare use…and yet, you lack the underlying tone of sinfulness such a one would use."

Alan's anger flared slightly at the insult to Mon's character, "Watch your mouth tavern whelp. My lady is no whore."

Lancel's voice first took on much hurt but gradually grew antagonistic, "Tavern whelp am I? Well that is certainly an insult come from one of Rendu's dogs. Oh, don't try to deny it now. I know full well that the armor you wear, chain mail, and leather braces, is of southern make and southern rule. Rendu's rule for a lack of better terms." Then, just as Alan looked about to boil over, he threw in one last snide remark, "Besides, the word 'whore' never left this tavern boy's lips…"

"Now see here you…"

"Ah ah ah…there is a lady present dear ser."

"I am no ser!"

"Ah, a squire then?"

Alan was bristling, "I despise the knights of the false king and their squires! I live to protect the lady at my side. She is whom I serve. I will never serve the false king!"

Lancel spat back snidely, "Oh…so you merely look the part of a dog!"

Gendry spoke before Lancel could continue, "Peace Lancel." He turned to Mon, "Let's cover the formalities. Are you a friend or foe of the people you seek? I am the leader of the rebel band you speak of. At one time I was much stronger than I am now. At one time I was known as Gendry Ice Fist. But that was before Rendu took over and began demanding his wretched tributes. Now, I am what you see before you and to make my hurt worse I lost my family to the monster that sits upon the throne. Lancel here is the son of a southland man, whom you may know, Lancelot Rivers, of the River Lands. I suspect you may know what happened to all who were in the castle Camelot that night. So think well before you answer. Because if you even begin to utter foe, it will be the last syllable you ever utter."

Without missing a beat Mon replied, "I am truly sorry for your loss," Mon motioned to a chair, "May I?" As Gendry nodded she took a seat and continued, "I am not all that I seem. It is popular belief that another of my guises is a servant to the current ruler."

Both Gendry and Lancel slid their hands to their sword hilts, but calmed as Mon continued un-phased, "However, as most guises are, it is a mere guise. I have lost much, as well, because of the false Pendragon; but I shall not bore ye with details. I am here today, because my guise was given an order to stop the rebellions that are popping up. But, it was not specified how I should stop them. So my friend here…" she motioned with a wave of her hand to Alan, "…thought up a marvelous idea.

Mon continued, "The renegade band in the south is under the command of an old childhood friend. He has under his protection a boy whom you might find great worth in. It has come about that the dragon youngling has survived. Until he learns to breathe his deadly fire, and take flight in defense of the land, he shall remain protected. I would hope that the northern rebels would join forces with the southern swords, and act peaceably, instead of getting themselves killed by whoever Rendu sends after me to quiet them. I'd also like to mention, that if you don't quit causing trouble, I die for failing my mission."

Gendry was calculating as he spoke, "How is it the dragon youngling has survived? I saw the carnage the moment the sun revealed the horror…I spurred my horse and rode as hard and as fast as I could away from it…I can still hear the arrows whistling past my head… I was so sure no one had…"

Mon interrupted with a small scoff, "…Lived? I assure you, that the dragon youngling lives, even though he is far too young to stage war, he is not too young to find his friends and gather an army."

Gendry was stern in his voice, even though his hands trembled in almost concealed hope, "But how…?"

Mon sighed as she looked Gendry in the eyes, "Do you truly wish to know what you ask?"

Lancel answered for Gendry through clenched teeth as he banged his fist down upon the table, "Listen dear lady…I don't dare to speak for Gendry…but I want to know!"

Mon replied with only a moment's hesitation and only a slight tremor in her voice, "I was a servant in castle Camelot since my birth. I knew all the escape routes, and the night of the attack…the young Pendragon was at his books with Acadus, the old merlin, granted he loathed that time; such a dislike for reading he had. I loved reading, so whenever my chores permitted I would sneak into the library and read. I was in the library too that night, hidden behind some stacks of paper and bottles of ink. When I heard the first screams, I knew something was wrong. When Acadus began to grow wary, I crawled out from my hiding spot, and led both merlin and prince out of the castle through a series of hallways, stairs, and back doors. I heard the screams; many times, the three of us rounded a corner just as enemy soldiers stepped into the hall we had just left. We carried no torch, but when we reached the meadow, I was certain the flames of the fire would be enough to reveal us. I thought we wouldn't make it. But the Lord was with us, and he helped us to reach the wood fringe and find a hole behind some bushes. It was there, in that hole, that we cowered until I felt I had to find help."

It was the steady voice of Gendry who eased the tension after the explanation, "For some crazy reason, I find that I believe you. As the leader of the northern rebels, I will tell you now, whoever ye may be, the young Pendragon has the swords of the north forever at his side. We shall look towards the time when the youngling's flames shall cleanse this kingdom. Now go…go southward again, to Dovewing, to quell the hot blooded force that lies there. Do not be surprised I know the names of your destination. After all, it is my fellow rebels you seek. I shall go myself to the rebels that reside in Singwind. I will join you in Dovewing when I finish with my own task."

Lancel shot from his chair and criticized Gendry, "You would accept the word of a stranger so quickly…!"

"Shut up Lancel!" Gendry shouted with enough force to cow the cur.

Mon replied with two simple words as Alan and she left with the shadows… "Thank you…"

As they left the tavern, and left the village safely on their horses, Alan merely thought _wow…that wasn't nearly as difficult as I'd thought…_

But he thought too soon. A voice, and fast hoof beats, called them back. Lancel rode up on a beauty of a stallion with a pelt whiter than the snow. The horse was small but fleet of foot; of obviously regal bloodline.

Alan grunted in disdain, "Why, may I ask, are we so graced with your presence."

Lancel winked at Mon, "With the dear lady's permission, I'll be following ye to the blessed warmer weather."

Alan looked pleadingly to Mon, but was disappointed as she replied with a wry grin, "I suppose that we can't turn down a new found comrade."

Lancel managed to flash a grin of triumph at Alan before Mon kicked her heels into her mare and rode towards the southern lands.

* * *

Two weeks later…

Hand  
~

Hand was back in her cunning disguise. The horses were trotting through southland forests; cheerful rays caressing their pelts from cracks amongst the canopy leaves. Their riders were in fine spirits.

Lancel was chuckling, "Ah, such a pleasure it is to feel your toes once again! I'd thought I'd never have the blood running properly through my veins again!"

The warmer weather even managed to warm Alan's mood towards their new traveling companion, "Well, my friend, you've seen nothing of the south yet. There are many wonders you have yet to see."

"…by wonders, would that by any chance include southern women?"

Before Alan could reply indignantly that there was a lady present Hand stopped him, "Alan, I would appreciate if you refrained from saying what I know you were about to say when I am dressed as a merlin. As to your inquiry Lancel, you'll find the southern women are no different than the ones you knew in the north. If it was a brothel visit you spoke of, and not just sightseeing, than I will inform you now, you'll be on your own. I also trust you'll get quite lost without Alan and me for guides."

Lancel looked back at the merlin who rode behind him and smirked, "Oh yes, I had forgotten you were riding with us _Hand_. I can't even recognize the beauty that I met in a cold northern tavern under that very unflattering hood."

Hand dipped her fingertips into one of her pouches, and when she pulled her hand back out, she spoke with a controlled tone, "I should hope not my friend, for when we are in southern villages, I am nothing more than another lowly dog of the current ruler, and you are just another fame seeking fool who accompanies me in the hopes of gaining employment."

Just as Lancel was about to argue she snapped her fingers. The sudden spark spooked Lancel's mount and Lancel ended up flat on the ground under the hooves of his frightened horse. The mare and gelding were used to the sight, and did not shy, but stood still, waiting for Lancel to remount before continuing.

Hand smiled under her hood as Alan laughed, "Trust me Lancel, you'll see quickly why Hand is a feared name in the south."

Lancel remounted somewhat shakily as he gulped, "Heh, I guess I'm dealing with a merlin of great prowess then, aren't I Hand?"

Hand smiled as she kicked her mare into movement, "You've caught on brave knight; you've caught on."


	6. Rescued Just in Time

Arthur

Arthur stretched as he walked outside his tent and yawned.

From around the corner of the other tents within the renegade cave, Guinevere came walking, her modest gown of home spun far below her true station, "Young Dragon, Mira wishes to speak with you at the council table…"

Even in the lowly rags, her beauty was unmistakable. But Arthur was quite beyond noticing it as he replied hurriedly, "Thank you. I'll head there now." Arthur replied without hesitation.

Guinevere blushed at Arthur's uncharacteristic lack of insults as she hurried away.

Her flushed face went unnoticed to Arthur just as her beauty had. As a teen of his age will, the thrill of war takes precedence over the fluttering eyes of a pretty maid. His stride was long and determined as he headed as quickly as he could to the council table. He had a feeling about what Mira wanted to speak to him about…_Philip and Thomas still haven't returned with their patrol. They've been gone for over two weeks…_

* * *

Hand

Hand, Alan, and Lancel, trotted their horses into the southern village. The vegetation there was sparse; the ground seemed to be corroding away from constant travel. The homes were ramshackle and flimsy. But something else was strange as the three comrades rode into the village. No one was around. The village seemed to house only ghosts.

_Where is everybody? _Then Hand noticed that all three horses were swiveling their ears in the same direction. Without a word she slipped off her mare, and handed the reins to Alan. He understood and, though reluctantly, rode off into the far away brush to await her return. Lancel stared at both retreating forms for a moment with a look of disgust on his face. But he spat in the dirt with a sigh and trotted his stallion quietly after Alan.

After all, much as he hated to admit it, it was fool hardy to underestimate one's opponent. He decided to trust Mo…no she was Hand at the moment…and her judgment. She was, after all, the one who possessed the most knowledge of stealth fighting. He was the muscle. If his help was needed he would know it. Until then, well, he'd just have to wait _patiently_ with Alan.

The village wasn't as deserted as it would seem. Each ramshackle hut concealed an entryway to an underground hideout. It was the underground tunnels that were Dovewing's livelihood. Being so isolated, the village was often plagued by raiders. As long as no one learned of the tunnels, enough food could be hidden away to keep the village sustained.

Now however, the tunnels were home to a motley crew known as the southern resistance. In fact, two of the leaders were in the middle of a squabble. The great din was what had attracted the attention of our heroes' horses.

"Ye are the fool if'n ye think we should have let those knights have their way! So what with the crowned demon's wrath! He can do naught to us! His best knights rot in our cells." The speaker was a lithe, yet brawny, young man of twenty-five with a face that could have been quite comely if not for all the grisly scars. His eyes were so black that the pupils did not show and his long straight hair was as black as a Raven's wing.

His harsh temper was quite apparent, but the young man of eighteen that responded to him was cool and collected, "Gerard, I know as well as you what would have happened to the people of this village if we had not captured the turn coat knights. I have not forgotten that the duty of the resistance is to _protect_ the people. But do you forget that the crowned demon has one more great terror at his disposal? By capturing the demon's knight's we have asked for his wrath. He may just send his hell hound to bestow it upon us. I fear more from his dog than from all his knights put together. " The speaker hardly cut a great figure. He had a round face with kind, yet weak, eyes and a head of short and shaggy sandy copper hair. He was of a lack for muscle, being more of a soft appearance, and was a full head shorter than his hot-tempered friend.

The young man with raven locks spat through gritted teeth, "I have not forgotten, Robert. But all the same, the hell hound is of little challenge to us as long as we remain hidden. Do you DARE to pretend that releasing the turn coats is a better idea! Release those knights and they'll slay us all!"

_If only I could dare to think that you fool. If I released them they'd kill the people. If I don't…the unspeakable might just destroy us all, _"I pretend nothing Gerard." Robert sighed in annoyance as he turned and apologized in a very kind voice to a young girl who was cleaning up the ramshackle tunnel room that served as the quarters for the leaders of Dovewing's resistance, "I am truly sorry we haven't managed to keep the place cleaner, Molly. But cleaning isn't your responsibility; you can leave the job to me if you have other things to do. I don't mind."

Molly looked to be about sixteen, and she had sandy brown hair pulled back in a short pony tail. A few long bangs obscured her clear blue eyes. She was small and petite, but despite her pretty appearance, she had managed to survive in the rough town she called home. The resistance was an even rougher life, but she made the best of it and stayed out of trouble. She was anything but a fragile flower and she was quite cunning behind her innocent smile.

"It's no trouble at all Robert. You've worked so hard keeping this village safe, it's the least I can do. But…" Her gaze dropped to the floor as she turned back to her cleaning, "…never mind."

Robert's curiosity was roused and as Gerard barked a sharp order, "Spit it out girl!" he interrupted, "Gerard!" The offender winced. "Are you so weak as to bully women? Keep a courteous tongue in your head or leave her alone."

Robert smiled sheepishly, "It's alright Molly, you can tell us. There will be no such thing as poor council here. You may speak your mind."

Molly set her lips in a determined line as she answered, "Those men you captured the other day swear that they are members of the Renegade army. You shouldn't be so cruel to them. You never did look at them yourself, Gerard captured them. They might just be telling the truth. You can't know until you look on them with your own eyes."

"My sister is with the Renegades if you forget, girl." Gerard's voice held the annoyance of one forced to deal with one below his notice.

Molly's eyes got a glint of anger as she turned to Gerard, "How would you know a Renegade leader if you saw one! I know for a fact that it was your father that negotiated the deal for his fortune. You were still in the castle with the crowned demon trying to pass as just another servant. Too bad you didn't have the sense to pull it off! You got your own father killed and nearly got yourself killed in your escape. If you barely have the sense to pull off a deception job, how can anyone trust your judgment on who is friend and who is foe!"

Robert intervened before a much redder of face Gerard could harm the simmering Molly, "Peace you two. Molly, don't reopen old wounds. You know better than that. As for you Gerard, she is a woman, words are her weapons; so get some stout mental armor to defend against them and stay your hand." He sighed as he rubbed his temple and went towards the latch that would lead to the surface, "I'll check on the prisoners. I can't afford to have them tortured if they are not our enemies."

Before he could exit, the latch opened and a cloaked figure dropped in to be silhouetted by the torchlight. Twin blades glistened in the dancing red fire; their sharp edges a mere hair's breadth from the soft skin of Robert's throat as the shadow seemed to pull Robert into an embrace.

Robert choked out a warning, "Forget me; arm yourselves!"

His breath was wasted however; for Gerard already had his blade drawn, and Molly had grabbed a broom handle to hold in front of her like a fighting staff.

The figure's voice tickled Robert's ear, "State my name ye who was once considered of craven stock."

Robert tried to struggle, but found it futile, "Hell Hound! Dog! Servant of the Demon! A Hell Hound swathed in a concealing cloak! Kill me! My soul will take its place in heaven with my great and mighty father; which is more than a black hearted dog like you could ever hope for!"

The figure dropped the blades away, and the sincere laugh, tired and worn, that burst from the figure was anything but menacing. "So soon you forget me Robert Field. But I suppose it is only I who remember the days when a young boy who was so keen to become a page was bullied and taunted. I may not have been able to get you trained as a page, but it seems that you've managed to exceed the expectations held for you quite well without my help."…

The streets of Camelot were no place for the weak. It was survival of the fittest. A boy of a lower house had come to the training grounds that day. Almost the entire population of pages had made it their mission to tease him. Only two stood of the pages apart; a lanky boy black of hair, and a brawny boy rugged of face. Both of them sat with a small servant girl in the shade of the armory shed. Philip, Thomas, and Mon…all three looked upon the pack of tormentors with disgust.

Not one of the three comrades held any illusions as to the order of castle life. There were only two classes in the world of the castle children: Bully and bullied. But that didn't mean that the three comrades would support the bullying ways of the others. They themselves had barely just learned to avoid the wrath of the high house brats, but they would never join the pack that seemed to thirst for the blood of those they tormented.

As the circle of boys moved in to begin their assault, both Philip and Thomas looked away. But young Mon watched. It disgusted her that she was helpless to stop the beating; if she had had any power at that moment she would have stopped that mob of rats…yet she forced herself to watch for that very reason.

As the tormentors dispersed in search of another source of entertainment, Mon walked over to the bleeding mess that wriggled in the dirt and held out her hand, "No one is going to volunteer to be your nurse maid, but not all of us will rip out your throat. Keep your head down and your chin up and I dare say you'll survive."

The boy took her hand gratefully, "My name is…Robert Field."

Mon knew the name, and it wasn't one looked upon favorably in the realm. Rumor was that the family was full of cravens. They were one of the lowest high families in regards to the public esteem.

Mon sighed, "Your name doesn't lend much help to you. Field has long been cursed as a craven household. You may just be one of the many with that name fated to not pass page selection." Robert's shoulder's drooped. But Mon's voice took on some cheer as she shrugged in a carefree manner, "Even if you don't make selection, you should come by sometime. Friends are always welcome here."

Robert smiled even though it hurt his wounds to do so, "Thanks."

By that time both Philip and Thomas had come up to help Robert limp into the shade. Both quickly came to view the young Robert as a friend while Mon went off to finish her chores.

Robert didn't pass the selection to become a page. In fact, the arms master flat out refused to train him. But he did return often to the castle grounds; both to talk to his three new friends, and to provide encouragement to Philip and Thomas as they fought amongst the other pages. He may have been a failure in the eyes of the foolish, but what he lacked in their eyes was twice matched by his true potential.

Robert's tenseness eased as his eyes sparked with recognition. He had distanced himself from Hand to stand beside Gerard and Molly as he replied in a voice still solemn, "You've changed, nameless one."

The shadow replied with a voice that seemed to echo from another place, "Losing one's entire life will do that. It is true that I am no longer the person you once knew. For me those days are gone. I have been given a difficult task. It would seem that you've managed to make my task that much more difficult. The old arms master made a mistake when he refused to train you. You are anything but craven my friend."

"Stop it. Stop talking in your riddles and circles. Say what you really mean."

"I am here as Hand."

Robert winced. He knew that name as well as any. He'd heard it cursed thrice over and again on the lips of people he knew well just as often as he'd heard it cursed just as fervently on the tongues of strangers. He'd heard the name related to a sorcerer, a demon, and a traitor. He knew that the name belonged to the very hell hound that was the biggest threat to the resistance. He knew well that the words he had spit at his friend only moments before were correct as much as he loathed to admit.

Gerard had already leaped at Hand. But her twin blades were out and blocking. The clash of steel rung in the air and, moved back only a fraction by the force of the blocked blow, beneath the cover of her cloak's hood, Hand smirked, "Is this the strength of the head of the house of the Raven? I must say I am quite disappointed Gerard. Young Guinevere has more strength than you."

Gerard jumped back and spat, "How do you know of my sister!"

"I met her, in passing, the last time I visited the Renegade's Cave. She really is faring quite well you know. The girl is strong as well as beautiful. Granted, she may be a tad bit scatter brained."

Robert put his hand in front of Gerard as he turned back to Hand, "Why do you come here…Hand?"

Hand put away her blades, "I was ordered to put down the resistance by any means necessary. So I come to you in the guise of Hand and I bring with me words of caution. Your actions are bringing danger to the people and to the Young Dragon. I also ask that you release your prisoners to me. I can't allow you to keep them here. I must apologize for taking your prizes from you, but I am afraid I can't return without those foolish excuses for knights."

"What do you mean…are you telling me that the Young Dragon is ALIVE?"

Hand folded her arms across her chest and adopted a tone of hurt pride, "You wound me, Robert. You would dare to assume I'd let the youngling die? I would never let harm come to the dragon heir. I am his merlin you know."

Robert gave a sigh of relief and shook his head, "You always did manage to get into such a web of trouble. Why are things always so complicated with you?"

"Oh, you'll find that being complicated is a grand thing in this world. It makes it so much harder for people to be able to understand you. It makes it so much easier to fool those who are truly your enemies. If only Thomas and Philip could understand that. Things are always strike first and think later with them. Philip used to be a lot more strategically adept before that night of carnage…"

"Wait, Philip and Thomas are alive as well!"

Hand smirked, "You got it. It'll take more than a silly coup d'état to kill those two. In fact, they're the leaders of the Renegade army now…"

Robert slapped a hand to his forehead, "Oh no…Hand, you are probably going to skin me alive for this, but I think I'll be meeting Philip and Thomas again very soon." He got a harsher tone to his voice, "Gerard, meet me at the cells with the keys. For your sake you'd better hope there isn't a scratch on a certain two of those prisoners."

* * *

Philip

_This darkness…how much time has passed here? How long has it been since I've felt the sun upon my skin? Heh…they won't believe me. My word is no better to them than a traitor's dying breath. Why should it be? I've hidden my face all these years…none of the people even know me. Who could have guessed I'd die at the hands of my allies. Damn it…it's so funny…here I am thinking about my end when it can't have been long since my capture. Doubtless in a few days time Mira will grow wary and send scouts after me…Mon will come when she hears Thomas and I have disappeared…my friends will come for me…my friends will come for me…but this darkness seems like to smother me before I can see them…_

* * *

Hand

The loud creaking of a wooden door let torchlight flood into the cells from the long weaving tunnel that connected the main buildings in the village.

The light blinded Philip as he opened his eyes, and the glare aided in partially awakening the bone weary Thomas.

"Well, you two sure do look the worse for wear. But I suppose it can't be helped that you lack the wit to stay out of situations like this…" Hand grinned to no avail. Inwardly she sighed with relief …_just a bit of dehydration. That can be easily solved. They'll soon be back to themselves…_

Robert shook his head when he realized the two lacked the energy to take complete notice of them. He motioned to the guards who followed him, "Escort them above ground and see to it that any of their injuries are properly cared for and that they have food and water in plenty."

Hand slowly surveyed the remaining prisoners as she spoke dryly, "It comes as a marvel to me Robert that one such as you could hold cells of such cruelty."

As Robert closed and barred the door he replied, "Nay, the cells are not under my direct care. Gerard looks after them. This sight is as much a shock to my eyes as to yours. Still, the fault is mine, for not overseeing my subordinates. But, it is a stroke of luck, that I hadn't yet given Gerard leave to question the captured. Had you come a day later, you might have been met with a different scenario."

"Think not on what could have been. Think instead that a great wrong DID NOT happen." Hand reassured him as the two walked at a slow pace, back through the tunnels.

"Aye."

"What is troubling you my friend?"

Robert motioned in a roundabout way, "This, you, everything…this war…what point is there in any of it? You being disguised, the bloodshed…why must there even be a ruler? We could solve so many more problems if we just governed ourselves…"

Hand smiled, genuinely, "As to my disguise…its importance is relevant to me; that is all I shall tell you now on that matter. As to bloodshed…would that I could lessen it. As to self-governance, I wish it could be so my friend. But, sadly, the land is not ready for such a thing. We may believe it is time to make that change; others…may not be so inclined. I believe God gave the right to rule to the people. It is from the people that a ruler draws his power. I'll consider it a triumph if I make the people see that much. It is the job of future generations to see the people take power for themselves. Though…if I could have all of the strife in my generation, I would…"

"Why would you say that?" Robert questioned.

"I'd rather let the young ones and future generations grow up in peace. What worth has peace to me, when I've already been thrown into the fray with no way of backing down unless I humble myself before a tyrant king? Peace will be a more delectable morsel to me when this war is over and the land is joyous again. Peace will be a prize to revel in when I can tell my children about the past in a warm room and home with no fear of what could be about to burst through the door."

"So that is your dream then…" Robert chuckled, "You never once admitted that when we were kids. Who would have thought that Mon…would dream of living a peaceful life with a happy family?"

Hand laughed and playfully punched Robert in the shoulder, "I'm more complicated than that my friend. You'll find that just scratches the surface of my dreams."

Robert pretended to wince in pain, "Hey, easy now, you terrible hound."

As the light of day came closer, Hand wrapped up the conversation with a cheerful correction, "Wolf…not hound…Mon Wolf, the name of the one who bears no name. Reflect on the irony of that Field."


	7. Stronger! The Vow of the Young Dragon

Alan

_Hand sure is taking a long time…I wonder if she ran into any trouble…maybe I should go and check on her. No…she can handle herself…if I go, I might blow her cover. _

Lancel, who lounged against a tree trunk, interrupted Alan's frantic thoughts, "You seem worried squire."

Alan whirled and gritted his teeth, "I am NOT a squire. I…"

Lancel stood and stared Alan down, "You're Hand's body guard…was that what you were going to say? Well don't bother. If you were truly her protector, you'd be with her right now, and not hiding like an old woman in this shrubbery."

Alan looked away, "She asked to go alone, what more could I do but obey…" it was more of a statement, than an actual question.

Lancel spat in the dust, "Take my advice boy-o, you'd be a much better warrior if'n you quit doubting yourself. Tisn't any shame in obeying orders. But skulking round worrin' like an old hen tisn't somethin' for a man to do. If thoughts could save, no one would die in this world. Do the job ye've been assigned and leave Hand to hers. She'll come back to ye. It'd take more'n this dirt hole village to take down a gal like her."

Alan glared at Lancel in question, "Why would you try to help me feel better."

Lancel shrugged and returned to his seat, "I TRIED, but I guess I just wasted my breath on you…thickheaded squire."

Alan gritted his teeth, but decided it was best to go and tend to his horse.

* * *

Arthur

Arthur sat at a stone table with Mira. The other, lesser, officers were not present. Mira seem worried as she conversed with Arthur, "Some of the scouts said they saw Hand around Dovewing. Now, this could mean a number of things. I don't want any trouble, so I'm going to give Philip and Thomas two more days before we go crazy. The only place for them to have gone is Dovewing, so I'm guessing that if Hand is there, then they'll be saved from whatever predicament they managed to get themselves thrown into."

Arthur slumped in his seat with an unreadable expression. Then his back straightened and he gritted his teeth as he pounded his fist on the table, "DAMN IT!" I hate it! I hate it so much! This feeling of helplessness…why is it, that whenever there is trouble, all we do is sit back and pray that everything turns out alright!"

Mira just shook her head, "Now you know how Hand feels about this game she's playing in Camelot."

Arthur snapped his attention back to Mira as he asked more calmly, "What do you mean?"

"Hand stays at Rendu's side, does his bidding, and plays the lickspittle…he can't argue or retaliate. If Rendu ordered his death, then he would die. He has no power when he is by that snake. But still, he stays. He does it because he believes he isn't helpless. But I know him. He is just fooling himself so he doesn't lose the courage to stay. You have no idea of the enigma Hand is. You have no idea what he is pushing himself through to ensure that you have the best chance for a crown as possible. Trust me, I've known Hand since long ago, and even I haven't managed to completely understand that naïve merlin."

"What is the story between Hand and you? What was Hand like as a child?"

Mira chuckled as she replied, "I lived in Camelot, and Hand was a servant in the palace when you were just a mite. Let's see, how do I describe Hand at that age…stubborn, comical, somehow wise…but still as naïve as ever. That night woke Hand up…"

"What night?"

"The night Rendu unleashed his curse upon this land. Hand is a much more melancholy person now. But still, I sense that he'll be back to his normal laughable self once the war ends. It will just take some time."

"What do you mean by more melancholy? Hand seems fine to me."

"Enough, Young Dragon, you should get back to Guin. You don't have to train with me today."

"But…"

"Go."

With a bit of reluctance, Arthur complied, and went to look for Guin.

* * *

Alan

The sun had set when Hand came back to them. Alan tried not to let his complete and overflowing relief show, _she's alright! Thank God! _

But it was all he could do not to run and embrace her.

Lancel beat him to the mark for words though, "Oi, Hand, what took ye so long?"

Alan shot him a look that could have killed; though he quickly shot his full and undivided attention back to Hand when she began to speak.

Hand smiled that same old smile, "I apologize, but I ran into an old friend and took a little longer than I intended. Come on you two, if you want to sleep in warm beds instead of on the hard ground, I suggest you get over to the village and give your thanks to Robert Field for his hospitality."

Lancel's eyebrows rose, but like Alan, he decided it was better not to question until after he had gotten food and some rest.

* * *

Rendu

It was the same scene back it Camelot. The sky was being painted with red, and the sun was kissing the western horizon. Rendu was lounging in his throne in the Great Hall with his meal spread out, untouched, before him. He had adopted his normal composure again. The scars of his shame were well hidden by his clothing, and he was in an abnormal state of reflection. _Hand has been gone sometime…but I know he shall return soon. My right hand…my loyal hound._

Rendu reached for his fork, but paused suddenly; cringing as a foreign pain racked his body. He clenched his hands to his heart and gritted his teeth against the pain. His eyes rolled back, as his face went purple, and he was thrown into an unconscious, dreamlike state.

_"It is painful, isn't it?" A voice sounded out of the darkness of Rendu's mind._

_ "Who's there…" Rendu whimpered subconsciously._

_ "Blood stained rule, blood stained heart…blood stained rule, blood stained heart…"_

_ "NO! NO! NO!"_

The last thing Rendu saw before he awoke, to the shaking of his servants, was a figure, with his face shrouded by a cloak.

He awoke with a start, his skin no longer purple, but a pasty white. He didn't even notice the servants that scurried away in terror upon his revival. The fools were so terrified of him, that as long as he breathed, they didn't care what state they left him in. They never even contemplated clapping him in irons and appointing a more just ruler.

Meanwhile, as they closed the door, Rendu cried out, "I knew it! These nightmares! These wretched predictions! Hand is my loyal hound, my right hand. He will protect me! It is his figure I see. When my merlin returns, I will be free of these cursed visions!"

Rendu tucked into his meal with renewed gusto. But, it was sad, if Arthur's sword didn't dispatch him soon, the mad king could very well be his own destroyer. His mind was fraying, and soon the people would suffer as they never knew suffering under the reign of the mad king.

* * *

Arthur

The day was new, the air was crisp, the foliage itself seemed to drink in the dew upon its surface. Arthur stood vigil beside the mouth of the renegade cave. He had vowed he would stay here and watch until Philip and Thomas returned. A smile graced his lips as he thought back to the very conversation, with Guinevere no less, that had caused him to make such a grand vow…

* * *

"I'm sorry…my apologies Young Dragon…" Guin was quite flustered when Arthur had showed up out of nowhere, and called at her tent that she ended up spilling some of the dirty water that she had been washing the laundry in, all over him.

At first, it appeared that Arthur would be angry, but then he started to laugh, "Nevermind, it's just water Guinevere. It will dry. But, maybe, I could sit down for a bit?"

"Yes…Young Dragon…" Guin was blushing a deep tomato as she pulled out two chairs.

As Arthur sat down he laughed, "Oi, oi, it's Arthur, not Young Dragon. I'm not a king yet you know."

Guin edged to the end of her seat as she formed her lips in a pout, "…but you've already been crowned by the people. It is the people's consent that make you king, not a golden crown."

Arthur thought to himself, "All the same, I'm no king, I can't even bring my friends back safely. Philip and Thomas are out there somewhere, and all I can do is just sit here and hope that they return."

Guin placed her hand over Arthur's larger one as she tried to console him, "But you are the king. Right now, this worry you feel for them…you are fighting with them. You are sharing their pain and praying that they will return safely. Sometimes, a true leader needs to trust his followers to care for themselves…"

"Hand is the leader, not me. Hand is the one that knows just what to expect of people. I want to be a king…I am ready to sacrifice for that. But all these lives that I've been told I hold in my hands…what's the use if I'm not strong enough to prevent them from dying in vain?"

"Don't talk like that Young…I mean…Arthur. Don't talk like that. Philip and Thomas are strong, they'll survive this. They'll come back to us. All you can do is believe and wait for them…"

Arthur suddenly brightened up, just a bit, and exclaimed as he jumped up, "You're right! I'll wait for them! I vow, that I'll not eat or drink or leave the mouth of the cave until they come back!"

Guin got an amused smile as she watched Arthur act like the boy he was. As Arthur ran out of the tent he called back to her, "Thanks Guin!"

Her face blushed an even deeper crimson than before and she felt as if butterflies were a flutter in her stomach. With just a mention of her name, Arthur managed to get her so very muddled.

* * *

Arthur's stomach rumbled as he stood his vigil, but he wasn't about to give in. _Philip, Thomas, this time I'll show you that I can be strong to. If I'm to be king I'll have to be stronger than the both of you…I will be stronger...that I vow!_

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **_

_**Apologies for the username change everybody! But, I decided it was time to update my profile, and I wanted to change the name. **_


	8. A Night for a Party

Alan

The music played; fifes and drums bathing the large central tunnel with a cascade of raucous noise. The lanterns and torches cast a homey glow across the wooden long table, and those walls of dirt and root.

Robert was at the head of the table with Hand, Alan, and Lancel to his immediate left, and Thomas, Philip, Molly, and Gerard to his immediate right. He was attempting a speech, but no matter how many times he cleared his throat and banged the table, no one really seemed to listen.

Thomas, much recovered from his ordeal, stood up while smiling a drunken impish smiled and said, "Watch and learn Robert."

As Thomas climbed onto the long table, Hand pulled sharply at Alan's hand and grabbed Lancel's shirt sleeve as she half led, half drug, them away from the table.

Alan didn't question, but Lancel recoiled with a drunken slur, "WHAT THA HELLE YE DOIN LAD…"

Hand leaned into the wall, hoping it would swallow her as she replied, "Just watch, you'll thank me for pulling you out of the cross fire."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Thomas let out a drunken squeal, "!" All eyes were on him in less than a millisecond.

Lancel looked at Hand questioningly, the noise apparently sobering him up a bit, "That wasn't so bad…"

Hand just smiled a little halfheartedly, "…he's not finished…"

Thomas promptly continued, "HELLO DOVEWING! NAW I GOT SOMETHIN' TA SAY! YOU GUYS ARE ALL CRAZY FOOLS! I mean, seriously, first ya capture us, and damn near kill us! Now ya feed us, and throw this damn good party!" He started tearing up, "Ya know…youse people are so BEAUTIFUL! I love youse guys! Ya can skin me alive if'n ya want as long as ya feed me this well afterwards!" Then he took off his shirt and whirled it above his head, "WHEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAA, LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!"

Without any warning, the entire hall erupted in a chorus of drunken cheers and shouts. Food started flying everywhere, and it seemed quite near to a battlefield in that tunnel.

Robert, Alan, Lancel, Molly, Gerard…all just watched with their mouths hanging completely open. Philip turned around in his chair and gave a tired sigh in Hand's direction, "The idiot went and did it again…"

Hand shrugged, "It's Thomas…you know how he gets…the guy manages to spread idiocy wherever he goes…and don't give me that look Philip, it's not my fault, you're the one that let him down that much beer after being nearly unconscious for a week."

Lancel was the first to come out of his daze as a bowl of undeterminable substance barely missed his head, "Ya know what…scrap it…" he roared and headed into the fray, "I'M THE RED BLUR OF THE NORTH LADDIES! GET PREPARED TO MEET YA MAKER!"

Hand just laughed, she was so very tired… "I'm surrounded by idiots, but ya want to know something Philip…"

Philip raised his head up from the table and gave a gruff consent.

"I don't think I could ever have it any other way…"

Thomas was in the middle of doing a shirtless belly dance on the table…while drinking from two tankards at the same time; quite the sight considering that for a warrior he had quite the beer gut, which at that moment was jiggling like a bowl of plum cream… "COME ON PANSIES! YA KNOW YA CAN'T EQUAL MY MANLINESS!"

Lancel, also stripping off his tunic, said otherwise, "I'm the red bane of the northlands, and the red fish of the riverlands! Get THAT ya fool? I'm a fish see…so I can drink and drink and drink and never stop! No one can beat me…" He emphasized his words by trying to flex the muscles on his swimmer's physic.

Thomas stopped in his doings and threw a spare tankard at Lancel, "BLOODY BRING IT ON THEN!"

Philip looked at Hand with pleading in his eyes, "Please tell me you have some herb to get rid of hangovers…poison would work just as well…"

Hand shook her head with a chuckle, "Sorry my friend…no such luck."

Philip let his head bang back onto the terrible, "Scrap my life…"

Alan scooted closer to Hand, like idiot was contagious and somehow she could stop him from catching it, "Alright…I was under the impression people drown themselves in alcohol if they have something to forget…so what's the story with those two…"

Hand shook her head, "You know both of their stories…and you know them. They shouldn't be plagued by nightmares…they are naturally happy people, leave them to their fun…they'll pay for it enough in hangovers tomorrow." Then, she smirked under the cover of her hood as a grand idea popped into her head. She turned so her back was to the mass of partying people, and looked up into Alan's eyes. He had a moment to register that he should probably be running for his life, because that look in Hand's eyes echoed mischief.

But of course…she was already dragging him onto the table before he could object. He sighed, and decided to just go with it, _Maybe…it won't be so bad…_

Thomas saw the both of them from the corner of his eye while he was reaching for another full tankard, _Hot damn…now we really gonna get tha party started…little goody goody Hand has finally gone decidin' ta cut loose. _He slapped Lancel on the back, and pointed in the general direction of the two who were trying to find their footing on the messy table and dodge flying patters at the same time.

Lancel completely understood the plan.

With their footing gained, and the music picking up, and the food battle at a lull, it was really time for Hand and Alan to start the party. Hand reached into her herb pouches and set of a few smoke bombs…the air turning various shades of red, purple, and blue. Alan saw Hand take a fighting stance, and he knew what she wanted. They couldn't dance like the others…to dance together while Hand was in her guise would give the wrong impression. But they could dance in their own way…one that looked like sparring to others, but was really a special dance that only they knew.

Alan smirked as he threw a strong right, Hand ducked his blow and twirled around to stand behind him, her smoke whirling and enveloping them both in its embrace. The people watching roared their approval at the merlin's maneuver and were yelling for Alan to hurry and turn around. He complied, both he and Hand becoming a blur of jabs, kicks, punches, blocks, and dodges.

Lancel smiled as he inconspicuously inched closer towards the two. _The air is hot, muggy, and stifling, and the music is beating out a rapid rhythm…and the people are high on it. There is something about the meeting of friends and the roar of the music that just make a person want to stay in the moment forever…_

The music was beginning to slow down, the tempo's decreasing pace the signal of the song's end. Alan and Hand were beginning to draw their spar to a close as well, both panting from exertion…but a split second before the music stopped…right when the smoke was thickest around the two…Lancel made his own move.

Lancel grabbed the back of Hand's cloak and whisked it over her head to cover both her and Alan. Lancel had remembered to be careful to leave the hood firmly attached to Hand's head, but even without removing it, it had the desired effect.

In that last note of music, right as the attention of the people was focused on the musicians and not on those on the table, Alan was able to embrace Hand, and hold her close to him, _Come on Alan, you can do this…just kiss her…kiss her before you lose the chance…come one you fool, don't lose to your nerves now! _

He did not kiss her…but long after he would say that he did it so as not to ruin the moment.

As the roar died down, Hand pulled away and adjusted her cloak. She tried to shoot a menacing glare at Lancel and Thomas both, but she failed utterly and completely. She was just glad that her hood covered her blush.

Both Lancel and Thomas rumbled and shook with their mirth…a situation which, Hand smirked to herself, would be remedied the next morning when both wanted herbs to cure their hangovers and she refused them.

As the next tune started up, she got down off of the table, and walked nonchalantly down one of the side tunnels leading up to the surface. She wanted to look at the stars. She wanted to berate herself as to how she could even think of romance while the decisive battle loomed ever closer.

Alan watched her go, but before he could go after her, Lancel pulled him back and gave him a wink, "Better ta let a gal clear her head, squire. You'll get burned if ya handle a flaming cinder."

The one eyed warrior sighed and mumbled, "Why do you have to always be right…"

Lancel shrugged, "It's me best feature," he hooked a thumb in Thoma's direction, "Now come on, you've got to party with the boys tonight."

Alan tried to resist, but it was futile. "LA LA LA LA LA LA…HERE'S A SONG FOR ALL THE LADS…WHO'VE EVER LOVED A GAL AND BEEN CALLED CADS…" Thomas and Lancel rattled off the words in perfect sink…even though they were both just making it up on the spot…poor Alan was stuck in between both of them, forced to mimic a drunken cancan, _PLEASE HAND! SAVE ME! Oh wait…I'm supposed to be the knight in shining armor…HOW IN BLOODY HELL AM I GOING TO SAVE MYSELF FROM THIS ONE!_

* * *

**Author's Note: I know it's short, but I didn't want to burden the chapter with anything too serious...this was meant to be a comic relief (partially because the hamster running on the wheel in my head had a seizure a few weeks back, and is currently on life support...so I wanted to write something that took a page out of my own friends' antics and didn't require much addition...)**

**Alright then, I hope anyone reading this is having a wonderful day, and I'll try to update as soon as possible...*glares at pile of homework* although that could be awhile...**


	9. A Hell Hound Under a Blood Moon

Hand

The stars shone brilliantly in that night sky. Hand had walked a ways away from the ramshackle huts, past the horses tied to a post by the village outskirts, and into the bare meadow. She let the wind tease her cloak and whirl it about her as she thought, _the autumn is coming…summer is coming to its end already. The crops Reeve had spoken of should have been harvested by the time I had come to Camelot…but they were small, much too small. This passing spring was dry…too dry. Winter will bare its fangs soon. I pray it is a mild one…for the sake of the common people. If the ground is kept soft by rain, crops can still be grown…but if the snows drift from the northlands and dance their icy ballet upon these southland fields…I fear the ground will be turned as barren and formidable as this poor meadow I stand in. _

The pounding of horse hooves made her shift her gaze to the source of the noise; a lone rider on the back of a shaggy northern Garran.

The rider pulled the small horse to a halt at Hand's side, "Have your negotiations gone well; Hell Hound."

Hand shook her head with a look of tired amusement, "Gendry Ice Fist, have you always been so blatant?"

"Aye, I like my answers straight and to the point…none of those riddles you seem to love to spin to muddle poor simple folk like myself."

"Then I'll humor you. The negotiations have gone well. On the morrow, I will return to Camelot with Alan, Lancel, and those prisoners that still remain in Dovewing's cells. The two renegade armies of the south shall most likely join together and travel back to the main hideout. You may go with them as a representative of the northern rebels if you wish. That way you may meet the Young Dragon for yourself. Now that you've heard my report…what news do you bring from Singwind?"

"Grave news I fear…

* * *

The north winds blew cold and fierce at Gendry's back, spurring his little Garran to run ever swifter towards Singwind. He paused neither for rest nor food. His only company the steady beat of his Garran's quickened pace. As night turned to morning, and morning to midday, the crunch of snow turned to the crunch of leaves under his horse's hooves.

"Come on old friend…only a ways farther…" But Gendry was forced to draw up on the reigns as a long plume of smoke caught his eye to the east, "…what do we have here…come on old boy…off we go."

What Gendry stumbled upon was what remained of Singwind. All that remained of the village was charred framing, ashes, and soot. Gendry spurred his little Garran forward; even the sturdy fellow disliked the acrid scent of the smoke.

"…now what the hell happened here old boy…?"

The shaggy pony just nickered in response and pulled at the reins as he pawed at the still warm ashes swirling around his hooves.

"You there!" A tall man with his face and clothes covered by soot shouted at Gendry, "Why do you trespass here!"

Gendry narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he trotted his pony towards the speaker, "I am looking for the village called Singwind. Would you be kind enough to point me in the right direction?"

"What you are walking on is all that remains of it. A lightning storm made this village subject to its fury. The villagers have all left for neighboring places. I was left here to clean up after the fire."

Gendry looked around, his brows knitting together as he puzzled out the pieces, "Is that so? What a shame and a surprise since we haven't had any storms for months."

"Aye."

"What of the rebels that called this place home…what village did they flee to?"

The man had a shifty look about him as he replied, "I assure you sir, not a one of the rebels remain alive. They were the majority of the ones caught up in the fire."

Gendry's keen eyes picked up a blood stain underneath the soot on the man's body. All the same, Gendry replied as if he had noticed nothing, "Then I have no reason to remain here either. I apologize for troubling you, good day…"

* * *

Hand was silent for a moment, but then asked, "So, Singwind burned to the ground…there passing is a great loss…" Hand replied, her voice full of remorse.

"You are much too naïve, Hand. You would accept the excuse that lightning started that fire without even a question?"

"The villager told you it was lightning, did he not?"

"Aye, but I don't believe them. If lightning had started that fire, then there would have been survivors, or at least corpses burned in their flight to get away. What I saw there was a horror scene. All the corpses, what was left of them, were outlined by the frames of buildings. They were burned in their own homes." Gendry's voice was as cold as ice, but even so, the cracks in his tone were apparent.

Hand shook her head, "I know what you are saying…no doubt, if I had seen the aftermath of the fire I would have thought the same as you do. But I did not, so all I can do is take you at your word and trust to your assessment. Just tell me this, why would the villagers seek to harm the rebels?"

"Why not? Your name travels with a vengeance, Hell Hound. Any poor, desperate, village would want to make certain that such a plague wouldn't be brought down upon them. These common people that you try so hard to help…some are no better than the corrupted oppressors you seek to liberate them from. Your life would be in far less danger if you realized that. So easily you give out your name and your true purpose, so easily you reveal yourself. Well, I'll tell you this, not everyone is your friend. There are vipers amongst the ferns."

"All the same, Gendry, I would rather gamble on the positive and be wrong, than gamble on the negative and be right. How can we win this war if we believe we'll fail from the very start?"

"I don't ask because I fear for you. I fear for the Young Dragon. You are his right hand, so it is your role to protect him. If you see everyone as friend, how will you know his enemies? I understand that you don't want to see the bad in people, but it is too late to see the danger when it has sunk its fangs into your flesh. I was like you, once. Then Rendu murdered my family. I am now a man without a family…and much colder because of it. Lancel will tell you the same, for all his feigned light heartedness. In fact, he was the one who first told me to be wary of the unknown."

Hand sighed, honestly puzzling over what she was being told, "Then I thank you greatly for the advice. I will try to make use of it in the future."

Gendry turned his Garran to ride back north, "See that you do, Hell Hound."

Yet Hand called him back, "Wait awhile, won't you stay and speak with Lancel and journey to see the Young Dragon?"

"If you would wish it of me…"

* * *

Alan

As expected, everyone had fallen asleep where they had stood in the underground hall. Alan awoke with a snort as he breathed in a large amount of dust, and found himself under a heavy pile of drunken bodies…actually two named Lancel and Thomas.

Sometime during the party both had put their tunics back on. _Why am I the one that has to be subject to the idiocy of these two? _With a grunt of exertion, Alan shoved both sleeping warriors off of him and walked to the table to see if anything remotely edible remained. Failing there, he scanned the room in an attempt to find anyone awake. His gaze fell upon Molly, who was cleaning up around the piles of slumbering men.

"Pardon me; miss, would you happen to know where Hand has gone?"

Molly looked up with a start, then settled and gave him a sweet smile, "Oh, the merlin? He walked out last night after your sparring match. He hasn't come back down yet, so I assume that you'll find him up by your horses."

Alan nodded as he too headed for the surface, "Thank you."

* * *

When Alan emerged from out of one of the huts, he easily spotted Hand over by the horses, just where Molly had said she might be. Although, he felt as if something was amiss…Hand was with a group of people. He recognized one as Gendry, _since when did he get here? _The other two he thought were Robert and Gerard. Hand seemed to be frustrated and was arguing over something.

He increased his pace and was at her side in moments. He picked up bits and pieces of the argument.

Gerard ground his teeth and roared at Robert, "I won't let them take the prisoners back! Those knights will just give Rendu that much more leverage in the coming battle.

Robert had a helpless look upon his face, "Gerard…it isn't your place to question…"

"LIKE HELL IT ISN'T!"

Hand was broiling with fury, "It was already agreed that I would take the prisoners back! I have to in order to maintain Rendu's trust!"

Gerard spat back with a malicious smirk on his face, "Well then, Hell Hound, seems even you turn craven when faced with the Crowned Demon. Just so you know, maybe it won't be such a bad thing if Rendu decides to slaughter you. It will be a very fitting end, wouldn't you agree…"

Robert found his courage, "Now see here, Gerard! You have no place threatening our ally! That is traitorous talk and a traitorous tongue and I won't allow it. It was agreed upon beforehand that the prisoners would be returned to Hand. The matter is settled. Now return to your duties. I won't hear anymore on this matter."

Robert walked away, and by doing so he didn't catch the deadly glare being shot at his back. But Alan saw it, and by her body language, Alan knew that Hand saw it as well.

When Gerard had stalked out of hearing distance, Hand turned back to Gendry, who had been calculatingly quiet the whole time, "I likely won't see you before I leave, so I have something to ask of you…I want you to keep an eye on someone for me…"

Gendry came out of his shell of silence, "Why burden me with the task, why not ask it of those friends you speak so highly of; the renegade army's commanders?"

"It is not a task I would concern them with."

Gendry sighed, and even though he had a rough idea of who it was, he still asked, "Who is this person you wish me to watch?"

"Gerard…"

"I will watch him for you, and congratulations."

"What do you mean?"

"Turns out, I was wrong…you do have the ability to see the vipers amongst the ferns. Maybe the reason you never did before was because whenever you revealed yourself you were in a bed of ferns."

Alan did a double take, "Oi, oi, back up…what did I miss?"

Hand laughed, "Don't worry over it Alan, it's nothing." As she walked back towards the hidden tunnel entrance to wake up Lancel, she waved back over her shoulder to Gendry, "Just make sure you don't start hallucinating, Gendry. If you start seeing vipers that aren't even there, we'll be in a much worse boat than you could imagine…"

* * *

Rendu

Rendu was locked away in his chambers. He sat forlornly at his chamber window, his gaze boring a hole into the distant horizon. The long winding trail through the forest and down to the village Camelot was without travelers this day. _Come Hand, come back to me…return to me my loyal hound. Return to lie at my feet where you belong. Return to guard me with your fangs and your claws. Return…come back to Camelot…come back to me…_The dusty trail seemed to move from its slumber…_wait! Hand, could it be that you are already back!_

Without pausing to make certain the movement on the trail was indeed Hand, Rendu ran out of his chambers, sweeping his kingly robes around him in the process, "SERVANTS! SERVANTS! Prepare a bath! Prepare a meal!"

* * *

Hand, and her entourage, entered through the castle gates just as Rendu came down the steps into the courtyard. He looked much more regal with the sun on his pale skin. The light seemed to wash away his sickness, and for that moment at least, he seemed to lose the look of insanity.

"My strong and loyal right hand! Please do enthrall me with a tale of your exploits!" Rendu seemed like a boy who was being teased with a present, one who wanted so badly to figure out the unknown gift.

Even though she was weary, Hand couldn't help but find herself once again pitying Rendu. _If so many lives didn't hang in the balance, if he hadn't been eaten whole by his ambition…maybe he wouldn't be such a bad human being…_With a grand flurry, Hand leapt down from her saddle, "Allow me, to regal you with the tale then!"

As Hand's smoke bombs added a crackle and some color to the air, the unconscious knights on the ramshackle cart that was hooked to Alan's gelding were completely beyond comprehension. Ironically, Savaric had actually turned up at Dovewing, although at the moment, he was just as unconscious as the other no-name knights. Lancel and Alan waited in their saddles with grins on their faces, they wanted to hear Hand's tale almost as much as Rendu.

"My loyal guard and myself rode hard and fast to the northern village Banewood so we could accomplish your order. The northern rebels were quelled, and in the face of superior reason…they balked and yielded. I found a knight in those northern dregs, and he has journeyed here with me in the hopes of entering the service of the true king," Hand motioned toward Lancel who sat upon his white stallion in his tunic and breeches, "the knight I speak of is this man here, Lancel he calls himself…a name for a worthy knight it is. With Lancel added to our strength, on we rode…towards Dovewing. For you see…Singwind had burned to ashes. The people themselves resentful of the revolutionaries for their outright rebellion struck them down before I could reach the scene. The flames purged Singwind of any and all life. Not a single enemy lurks in the village anymore. In Dovewing, we were faced with a fierce battle indeed…but in the end they too succumbed and we managed to rescue your valued knights from Dovewing's horrific cells. That is the story that precedes you finding us in your presence."

The last of the smoke faded away as Rendu clapped his approval, "Most wonderful indeed Hand! Most wonderful!"

The cowering servants interrupted Rendu's praise, "Sire…the bath is prepared in Hand's chambers…but we have no food to spare…all is being used for the blood moon feast tonight…"

Rendu's face went from joyous to furious…and he was so very close to ordering the nearby guards to harm the servants…but Hand intervened and addressed the servants herself, "I thank you very much. After such a tiresome journey a bath will be quite pleasant. Do not worry over the food, I have already eaten heartily before returning, and more food would just be upsetting. However, you could move another bed into my chambers. Lancel has expressed his wishes to serve the true king, but he shall prove his worth serving under me with my guard."

As the servants scurried of to do as they were bid, Hand turned back to Rendu, "I would ask permission to inquire about this blood moon feast that they were speaking of…"

"Oh, it is merely a festival thrown by the peasantry. It is supposed to keep away the demons that prowl this night. After all, autumn is upon us, and the demons seem to relish the cold." Rendu was a completely different person, his voice was cheerful and his features were far from how strained they were I Hand's absence.

Hand smiled, "If you'll excuse me, I will tend to my bath now. I will leave your unconscious knights to the castle servants."

"Of course my loyal right hand, of course."

Alan and Lancel followed after Hand, leaving the care of the horses to the servants as well.

* * *

Alan

When the trio walked into Hand's chambers, a new bed was added to the wall opposite the latrine. The same old woman that was given to Hand as a personal servant her first day in Camelot was busy dusting and straightening.

Hand smiled warmly and dismissed the woman, "I thank you for your efforts, but if this place isn't clean by now, it never will be. You may go, I prefer to bath in peace."

The woman nodded, but before leaving she asked, "Will you be attending the festival tonight?"

Hand smiled once more, "Yes, if my comrades will accompany me?" She shot a questioning glance at Alan and Lancel. When they both nodded, the old woman asked a question, "Would you have me prepare festival costumes for you?"

Hand shrugged her shoulders good naturedly, "Why not? Thank you very much."

The old woman smiled, "You aren't as bad of a boy as they say, I don't really mind working for you. In some ways, you remind me of a girl that used to serve here before…ah, but it doesn't do to reflect on those things. I apologize."

Hand's smile didn't falter, but her brain was working at an incredibly fast pace. Lancel noticed, and as soon as he heard the woman's footsteps disappear he slapped Hand on the back, "Relax, the old woman isn't an enemy…just a reflective old hag. Don't worry over it. Now go take ya bath. I want ta have some time ta take one too before the festival ya know."

* * *

As Hand disappeared into the wash chamber, which was in the same room as the latrine, Alan lay down on his own bed and heaved a great sigh.

Lancel threw open the window shutters and looked out at the land, "Whoooo…that is one nice view. So Alan…do ya want ta take a peek?"

Alan turned beet root red, but didn't otherwise react as he stuttered out, "N…n…n…no."

Lancel smirked, "Wht ya got on your mind boyo? I was referring ta the amazing view of Camelot out of this window right here."

Alan blushed even more when he realized his slip up, but covered it with a gruff retort, "Oh come off it Lancel. It's a festival tonight, don't go and ruin the mood…" _I swear you cynical cur I will throw you out of that blasted window if your voice gets any louder._

* * *

Hand

By the time Hand emerged from the bath, scrubbed and clean under her merlin garb, the costumes had already been brought up. Lancel was in the middle of laughing his head off at the unique choices. The servant woman had been very blunt in her choices.

_What the hell did I miss…?_

Lancel turned and saw her, "Hey, Hand! Take a look at ta costumes ta old hag brung up!"

As Hand took in the sight of the costumes laid out on the bed she could help but utter a comment, "Well…they ARE fitting if nothing else…"

* * *

The festivities began an hour before sunset, in the courtyard of castle Camelot. The drums began to beat out an eerie beat, and as the gates opened to allow in the peasantry, and the doors opened to reveal Rendu, Hand and her friends emerged from the shadows to take their place beside the pre-setup throne.

Lancel was dressed up as an ogre. His sword strapped about his waist was very real, and added a nice touch. His face was painted with red to appear as if he was splattered with blood…an effect made almost too eerie by his deep red eyes. His hair was molded back and into odd spikes. The red locks seeming to morph into tendrils of fire as the setting sun bounced off of them. He was in a very fancy white tunic, with a big black belt and a dark brown pair of breeches. He looked the part…his feral grin said as much to that.

Alan was dressed as a knight in shining armor. Though he had originally been against it…but after he had tried the costume on, he liked it very much. He was dressed in shining armor; it was a perfect fit really. He used his old sword, and he actually liked using the shiny and feathered helmet. He even commented to Hand that he understood why she covered her face with the cloak.

Hand was actually dressed as a Hell Hound. The tunic and breeches that she had been given were black, and the servant woman had even brought a black cloak for her. Along with the clothes, there was an intricate necklace of silver that Hand wore. It had a small dagger in a sheath hanging from it. From one of her ears hung a blood red ruby droplet with the same intricate silver lining as the necklace. Also, Hand could pull her cloak's hood back a bit so people could actually see the earring thanks to the eerie mask that she wore. The mask had an extended, canine like nose. It was all black, with the facial details in white and red, holes for eyes, and large pointed ears. To complete the guise, Hand had a long, whip like tail attached expertly to her tunic belt.

All the major households attended the festival along with the commoners. Even the House of the Swallow attended. Of course…the man who looked just like an older and colder version of Alan didn't even acknowledge the son who stood dressed in a knight's armor. The family of house swallow all wore bird masks, and two long plumes hung from their tunic belts…presumably to represent swallow tails. But even with such a carefree bird as their sigil, they were a very stern family. Not a one really celebrated that night.

_Why do they even come here if they don't intend to have fun like normal people…?_

The riverlands house didn't seem to end up making it, but Lancel claimed it wasn't the attitude of his household to attend every party or celebration, "My family come ta a party? Oh please…they like ta make their own shindigs…"

When the sun finally set, and all the attending households had honored Rendu in some manner…Lancel, Alan, and even Hand were dismissed to do as they saw fit.

Rendu was very enthusiastic really, "Go on Hand, enjoy yourself this night! But be wary! Don't get too mixed in with this peasant rabble."

Hand smiled under her mask as she left into the crowd with Lancel and Alan beside her, "I wish the true king a pleasant evening as well."

It was still light out, so the party hadn't really kicked up yet. The wind was sure picking up though. Hand sighed, "…winter will come soon…"

Lancel nodded in understanding, "Aye, I know what ya mean…winter will come."

Before they could converse farther, the night fell, and the blood moon showed itself. It was a full moon…and it looked like it had been drenched in blood. The night was a time for demons…and the noise was meant to keep them at bay.

The drums pounded, fifes played, chimes clanged. Incense clouded the air, and torches blazed up against the terrors of the night.

Alan took off his helmet and threw it to the side with a smile, "Well, enough of that…anyone in the mood for crashing a party?"

Lancel gave a feral grin as he caught the eye of a large bosomed and attractive blonde in the crowd…she was dressed as an angel, in an all white dress with a golden necklace and earrings. He laughed as he bid adieu to Alan and hand, "Well, I catch ya two later…I got me a previous engagement ta attend ta!"

As the two disappeared into the crowd, dancing to the infectious beat of the music, it appeared that even Alan had an admirer in the crowd. Another young maid, with rosy freckled cheeks and dazzling blue eyes under a hood of auburn bangs approached the night in shining armor. She was dressed like a damsel out of a fairy tale…go figure.

Alan was about to object, but Hand was laughing with sincere mirth at his bashfulness, "It's alright Alan, party tonight! Trust me, I don't mind. Have some fun for yourself for once."

Alan nodded at her, "Don't you worry…" It was his code for _Don't you worry, I may be dancing with her…but I want to be dancing with you._

Hand waved him away with a laugh; in all honesty she wasn't worried in the least. She didn't want Alan to be a swallow in a cage; she wanted him to be happy.

* * *

She found a perch on the castle walls to watch the party. _This is hypnotizing…the perfect rhythm of the dance to the beat…the flare of the torches, the strange yet invigorating smell of this oddly mixed incense, maybe a mix of mint and lilac, but I can't quite place it._

She was so into her thoughts that she didn't realize someone was climbing up to her perch until they joined her on the shadow hidden ledge. She almost fell off in her surprise, but the intruder caught her just in time.

When she looked up, through her mask her eyes met Reeve's and she exhaled in relief, "Reeve…you jerk…that almost gave me a heart attack."

He paused with a blank look for a moment, then threw back his head and chuckled, "I apologize…I never meant to frighten ye…"

Hand smirked and punched him playfully, "I never said I was frightened ya dim wit."

Reeve put up his hands in mock defense, then got a daring look in his eyes, "Well, if you aren't frightened, then why don't you go outside the castle walls for the remainder of the blood moon?"

_Oh, you're a funny one, Reeve. Normally I don't take dares, but I am so calling you out on this one._

"Alright."

Reeve almost fell off the ledge this time, but Hand caught him as he exclaimed, "Wait…WHAT?"

"I said I'd do it. But you are staying here. I'm not going to be responsible for a demon running away with you."

* * *

Outside the safety of the castle walls, the night in the forest was truly an eerie one. _It's not so bad…eerie yes, but not unduly terrifying…_a snap behind her snapped her back to reality, and she reached for her twin blades, only to stop when she saw who caused the noise.

"Reeve? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay at the party…you shouldn't be out here…it is a night fit only for demons…"

"Then what are you doing out here Hand? You are no demon."

Hand got a feral smirk as her eyes reflected the blood moon under the cover of her hood, and her costume was eerily covered by the red glow of the blood moon, "Ah, but you are wrong my friend. Hell Hound is what the peasants call me…that is a name fit for a demon is it not?"

"But a name does not designate what the bearer is…I could call you foolish, and it would not make it so, I could say you are dead, but that will not make it so. It is the same with Hell Hound…you are far from a demon…you hold in your hands the ability to save Camelot. You will, I know it in my bones."

A wolf howled in the distance, and the wind picked up. The rustling leaves were beginning to beat a rhythm in the trees as the night sounds grew wild and ravenous.

Hand sighed as she turned away, "If Camelot's hopes rest with me, then I pity the people…I am no stronger than a newborn pup, no wiser either. I am naïve, and apparently an enigma as well…sometimes I can't even fathom my own thoughts. But, before the night grows viler, you should go back. I'll say again, this is a night fit only for demons. You have no need to suffer under this crimson moon…and before you interrupt, look at yourself, you speak with brave words, but you are shaking like a leaf. You are as pale as milk, and those strong hazel blue eyes of yours are dilating. This moon is sucking your energy away, and is feeding off of your fear. So go back, where your fire's blaze and music and dance will keep the demons away."

Reeve shook his head, and fought down his fear, so that he could speak without a shake in his voice, "I dared you to come out here, so as long as you feel safe in the company of this evil, then I too will not falter under it."

Hand couldn't help the half sick, half crazed, laugh that escaped her lips, "Then you better scurry on back to the castle with your tail between your legs, because I don't feel safe in the least this night."

Reeve struggled for words…but before he could find them, Hand continued, "Don't bother arguing, I can tell that you are scared of me. Just go."

Reeve found his words as he shook his head and threw out his hand, "NO! I may be scared of a lot of things, but I am not scared of you! I was going to ask why you stay out here if you do not feel safe."

"I'll only tell you if you leave once I tell you…"

Reeve gritted his teeth, but reluctantly nodded.

"…Just because I do not feel safe, doesn't mean that I am afraid. '…for though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…' is that not the well known verse? When you can master that ability, Reeve, no door shall ever be closed to you. Because in reality, there is danger in almost everything you attempt in this world. The trick is, knowing enough to not be afraid. That is how you conquer mountains."

The wolf howls sounded closer now, and a shiver went up Reeve's spine, "If that is the case, then I shall stay here with you."

Hand sighed, "You promised you would go."

Reeve got his trademark grin back, "Now I don't really recall sayin' anything."

Another sigh left Hand's lips, "Alright, you can stay then."

* * *

**Author's Note: Well there ya go! ^_^ Benchmarks at school were pretty stressful this week, and I needed some severe stress relief. For the moment that hamster on the wheel in my head is still on life support, but I think it still managed to give my brain enough juice to right this. I know my uploads are very inconsistent, but at the moment so is my schedule.**

**Once again thanks to my very few loyal readers.**

**Also, any criticism or reviews are appreciated.**

**Anywho...I hope anyone reading this is having a wonderful day, and I really must turn off my computer before the GIANT and MENACING... House Fairy (bet ya weren't expecting that!) comes and yells at me to turn it off. **

**~ A-dios ^-^**


	10. A Hymn to Fight off the Darkness

Arthur

The blood moon had drenched the forest of the renegade's in its demonic glow…and still, Arthur stood his vigil.

"Arthur…please, come inside. The demons are out on this night. It isn't safe. Come inside where the torchlight and music keep them at bay." Guin pleaded softly with the stubborn young boy.

Arthur looked at her, the glow from the torch in his hand washing away the reddish hue, and replacing it with firelight, "Guinevere…I made a vow; I will not be moved from here until Philip and Thomas return. I cannot break a vow once made. It would make me less of a man."

Guin sighed as she pulled some food out of her satchel, "I had a feeling that was to be your answer…so at least eat this. I'll hold your torch…and I'll sing to keep away the frights of the night."

"You can sing?"

Now holding the torch, Guin stammered, "Well…not very often…but it should suffice…"

"Let's hear it then." Arthur replied with a mouthful of bread and meat.

Guin blushed as she started into a verse…

"Hear my voice and hear my plea…

Dear savior watch over we…

We who walk this dismal path,

Please protect us from the demons' wrath."

"Why did you stop? That was beautiful…keep going!" Arthur encouraged as Guin paused in her song. With a soft smile, she nodded, and continued.

"Long ago you saved our souls,

You paid for us that bloody toll.

Yet still we beg for you to save…

Save us from a mortal grave.

Let your light spread over the land,

Take us in your outstretched hand,

Make our footing stone from sand,

So we may follow lion and lamb.

Here we stand and weary are we…

Please lighten our hearts so we may be free…

Free from oppression and free from defeat…

Free to flock to our savior's feet.

Take us into the flocks in your fold,

Keep us there till we are old…

Then when our time comes to go…

Take us with you to your golden home…"

A rustle in the underbrush startled Guin as she concluded her verse, "Oh my…!"

A large group emerged, but the voice of Philip rang out, "My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten ye, madam. But your sweet song guided us weary travelers home on this evil night. Your voice must be the sweetest to have ever uttered a prayer."

Thomas came to stand beside his friend, "Sweet as honeyed milk, Lady!"

Guin had the grace to blush and divert her eyes while muttering, "Thank you, kind sirs."

But Arthur wasted no time, and jumped with joy as he clasped Philip and Thomas both in a warm embrace without hesitation, "Philip! Thomas! You're both safe! Is Hand with you?"

As Arthur stepped back he noticed the worried look that flashed through Philip's eyes, but it remained only for an instant, and was then replaced by the normal coolness, "He returned to Castle Camelot, with a new supporter…a knight…in tow. He has also won you the support of the northern rebels, and has rooted out more enemies of your cause."

Gerard pushed through the ranks to stand beside the two commanders, "Sirs…I think it would be wise to tell all inside by a warm fire. It is not wise to test God's good grace and loiter in the presence of this night's demons."

"Brother!" Guin exclaimed with a mixture of shock and joy as she threw herself into her brother's arms, "It is good to see you again!"

A deep rumble came from his chest in a sound that seemed to be a forced laugh, "…as it is good to gaze upon your face also little sister."

Arthur nodded in Gerard's direction, "I think you speak proper sense Brave Sir," as he led the large and weary group into the hideout.

The atmosphere within the hideout was similar to the one in the courtyard of Castle Camelot. Costumes, music, and torches were in a high concentration. The night of the blood moon could be called a pagan rite…but in a land where the Church and old traditions battled so heavily, the Church, whose power had deteriorated somewhat with Rendu's rule, succumbed to the major traditions of the people in the hopes of their continued support for Christian traditions.

Arthur strode to the long table in the middle of the cave with the weary band of travelers in tow, and bade them to sit while he jumped up on the worn out wooden planks of the table and shouted above the din of the music and voices, "This is truly a night of celebration! Our dear commanders Philip and Thomas have returned safely to us and have brought with them the support of our fellow rebels from the north! Gendry, Gerard, please stand!" Both of the addressed men rose, "Please look upon these two warriors with respect! From this day forth, they too shall be counted as commanders amongst you…equal in right and reverence to Philip and Thomas!"

The roar of cheers made further words incomprehensible. So Arthur reclaimed his seat and tilted back his tankard. After belching heartily, he turned to address the four men seated beside him, "So, now that we're in the safety of the torchlight, please tell me what Hand has planned for me. Philip, I expect the most from you, I saw that look in your eyes, and I want to know its source."

Philip tried to argue, "But, Young Dragon…"

Arthur's tone was calm and collected, but commanding all the same, "It is not wise to argue with the king, Philip. Please, continue."

Philip visibly froze, but the tension was broken as Gerard burst out laughing over his tankard, "Well, here sits a king I will serve. I see no boy, but a warrior who's got some nerve! My sister was given a glorious honor by being given the right to share your bed!"

Arthur gave an acknowledging smile in Gerard's direction, but turned immediately back to Philip, "Philip, I am waiting, and don't try to cover up anything."

Acknowledging defeat, Philip began, "The scouting mission you sent us on went wrong, and our fellow rebels mistook us for the enemy. Robert, who remained behind to look after the villagers in Dovewing, had left matters to Gerard who did not know us by face and the mistake was an understandable one. It was a matter of luck that Hand visited the village on Rendu's orders and discovered our imprisonment. We had a grand feast to celebrate our liberation, and on the next morn, we said our goodbyes.

"Hand is entering into dangerous territory. Winter will soon be upon us, and he knew that. Even so, he declined returning here in favor of making with all speed back towards Castle Camelot. He'll have no time to meet with you again before the snows fall. When the snows fall, he will be like a prisoner trapped within the walls of the castle. Rendu's rages grow more frequent in the fury of the snows. He has been known to sentence over half of his castle to death during some particularly harsh winters. But Hand knew all that, and still he returned. I suspect I know the reason, but I will not voice what I do not know for certain. Hand has Alan, and Lancel, at his side now; so I trust he will come to no harm unless Rendu orders it himself. Even then, I doubt Rendu would harm Hand. If rumors are to be believed, Rendu has become almost dependent upon Hand, like a blind puppy is to its mother."

Arthur nodded in silence as Philip concluded his report. It was left to Gerard to voice the approval, "It is a good thing, to have such a strong ally to connect us to the throne. But, what shall we do if your precious Hell Hound betrays us Philip? You seem so confident in his skills, but what would you do if he turned turn cloak?"

Philip forced his temper down as he replied in a measured tone, "Hand is more loyal than you could ever know, the day he betrays us will be the day I thrust my sword through my heart."

The anger that flashed across Gerard's eyes seemed to possess the ability to cut through steel, and Gendry did not fail to notice it. Thinking quickly, he grabbed Gerard's wrist which was reaching for the hilt of his blade, "I think that is enough politic talk for today good sers. Our king is obviously reflecting on the best strategy to accompany what he has heard, and we should do our duty and celebrate heartily the great honor he has bestowed upon us all."

The tension did not ease.

******** Well, I know this update is a tad bit late, but testing season in school is one of the most excrutiating trials known to mankind -_-

Anywho, I know this chapter probably wasn't worth the wait, but thanks for the wait all the same! I want to thank one of my best and most faithful readers, Isilarma, her stories are EPIC! So give her some views and reviews if you please! ^-^

Now, that hamster on the wheel in my head is finally starting to come out of his coma from testing week, so I need to hurry up and get him a six pack...of cola! XD. (weren't expecting that were you?)


	11. Winter's Bite, Hand's Sanity Breaking

Arthur

Later in the night, Arthur sat up in his tent, with Guinevere at his side.

"Guin, what do you think I should do?"

"Young Dragon, it is not my place to say."

"Please speak, I won't ignore your words."

"…I…I don't have much faith in my brother. He is strong, yes, but he has little room in his heart for the truly important things. If I was in your place, I would listen to the counsel of someone without ambition. Hand is the one in this sea of faces that has nothing to lose, and nothing to gain. He'll be the one to provide the counsel that has your best interest at heart. But since you won't be able to speak with him until after the winter snows, it'd be best if you focused on training with Thomas and Philip. Also, you need to attend Mira's lessons regularly, and maybe I could help you train in strategy…"

"Strategy? What do you know of strategy?"

"…forgive my misstep…"

"No, no, I wasn't chiding you, I was just curious."

"Oh, well, I picked some up from my father when I was young…before…before Rendu killed him. I grew up in Rendu's court…the man is crazed like a rabid animal. He paces back and forth like an animal in a cage, and he lashes out at everyone and everything…even his allies. I often retreated to the safety of my father's chambers, and he would play strategy games with me. The one I remember most fondly, he called 'chess' and I still have the board and pieces he gave me as a parting gift in my trunk. I could teach you, if you would allow…"

Arthur gave her a sincere smile, "I'd love to learn. I'll start in the morning, but for now, I need to get some sleep. Do you want me to walk you back to your tent?"

Guin blushed, but shook her head, "No thank you, I promised Mira I would help her clean up after the celebration. I won't be in danger with her."

Arthur nodded, but still, he lingered at the tent's entrance until Guin's form disappeared amongst the other shrouds of canvas.

_Why am I even here? What is this all for…this game of deceit and deception. I want to lead, and I know the cost…but, but what is the point to all of this…will the world really be all that much better off with just a switch of rulers? Maybe I should call it quits. Maybe, I could talk Hand into trying to be king. He is better cut out for it than I…all I wanted to be was a knight. Kings can't save beautiful maidens and win glory, they just sit in a chair and waste away until they are old and gray and hated…just like Rendu. I don't want that to happen to me…and what of you Hand? Will you truly be able to survive this winter? _

…Winter came, and with it the wrath of thousands…

Hand

Hand stood alone upon the ramparts, looking through ghostlike eyes in the direction of the snow covered village. The ramshackle homes weren't even visible; only the tendrils of smoke kissing the frozen sky told their existence.

Hand's cloak clung tightly about her body, she still wore the black cloak she had been given for the blood moon…its weave was finer, and the wool thicker and warmer. But aside from that, her garb was as it used to be. _I can't take this anymore…what the hell is wrong with me…it feels like I'm going mad! _She leaned dangerously far over the rampart and looked down, _I feel so…so…DAMN IT! Would my problems be solved if I fell here…NO!_ She yanked herself away and dug her fingernails into her palms as she briskly strode back and forth along the path. Her strides moving swiftly along the ice slick stone.

For some odd reason, strange images kept flashing through her head:

_A small child stood alone. Her tiny form surrounded by others and their cruel laughter. But she bristled with confusion at their taunts._

_"Bastud…Bastud…why ye here today? Ya just a bastud, so ya've got to pay! Ya no good, so with us ya can't play. Ya're just worthless…so go…go away!"_

_The brown haired girl yelled back, "So what if I am! That doesn't mean anything! So what about my parents? So what about my heritage! I'm me! I never was anything else! I can do anything I want! I can BE anything I want! No matter what their pasts are…people are people!"_

_One of the older girls in the crowd came forward and shoved the child down onto the snow packed earth, "Bastud's don't talk; gutter trash! Daughta o some kitchen whore ye is. How bout I cut off ya hair…or break ya purty teeth! Ye got no right ta talk so purty and fine…like some noble lady with ribbans and curls."_

_The child stood up, and charged at the larger opponent, only to be tossed back down like a bundle of rags. Her tormentors laughed, "Cry bastud, cry! Crawl away and die!"_

Then Hand's eyes were looking at the icy path in front of her again, but the chant and the cries still rang through her ears as she screamed inside her head, _I WON'T cry…bastard born…but brave. One day, I will surpass all of you! I'll show you that a person's past doesn't matter! _But somewhere, in the back of her mind, Hand remembered how she had ached to call her mother…how she had ached to show her tormentors that she wasn't the daughter of a kitchen whore, but the queen. But that day, she held to her naïve sense of honor…her last scrap of pride, and yelled out the promise of greatness to come. She had kept her silence for two reasons: she despised being helpless and would not cry out in front of her adversaries…and she would not sully her mother by voicing what the Lady Juliana had worked so hard to keep secret. She would rather die.

In a rage, Hand punched at the rock beneath her feet, only to have the splattered blood freeze to her fist. Without so much as a grunt of pain, she stood again, and faced the raging winds as they threatened to throw her off of the ramparts. New snow cut into her face as the icy gale tore the hood away from her face. She looked into the tempest as if she were being caressed by a summer breeze. She had no worries over anyone seeing her, so thick was the tumult of the storm that threatened to consume her.

Her stomach rumbled out its hunger, but still she faced the storm, her mind racing with memories…and nightmares.

This time, when she resumed her pacing, her hood hiding her face from the storm's fury once more, it was a nightmare that shot into her head:

_A demon dog with crimson eyes and claws like iron, stood against the background of her thoughts. Its black fur rippled with an unnatural glow, "Give in to your insanity…hell hound. You know me…I am you…you are me. I can give you the strength you crave…"_

It was Hand's real voice that answered as she fell to the ground, "Stop it! Why must there be this hell in my head! I'm hungry, and thirsty, and tired, and worn…but just because I'm fatigued doesn't mean I can go mad…PLEASE…get out of my head!"

A flurry of footsteps rushed towards her as two familiar forms crouched by her side. Alan's warm embrace held her steady, and Lancel's tongue lashed out at her in reprimand, "What the hell, Hand? Ye've been pacing around like a wolf in a cage. It's unlike ye ta draw so much attention to yourself when ya are surrounded by enemies. What's wrong? And don't ye dare say nothing, cause if ye do I am throwing ye off of this blasted wall."

"Back off Lancel, unless you want to be the one taking a flying leap," Hand's tone bristled with a fury that was foreign to her, and Lancel's eyes registered shock at the sincere wrath in her gaze. He measured his response carefully before finally replying, "All the same, I'll not be leaving ye alone till I get a proper answer."

Hand growled low in her throat at the thought of giving in, but she knew she didn't have much choice in the matter, "I just feel…strange. It's almost as if something is clawing at the back of my brain trying to get free. I'm clueless as to what it is; all I know is that all this inactivity, and malnourishment is what brought it on. This blasted stalemate…it will be the death of me! If winter doesn't blow over soon…I'll…I'll…I'll go completely and utterly hopelessly insane! Send me into a thousand battles against the odds, and I'll go with a wary smile and a fond farewell…but send me into the unknown, where I'm utterly helpless, and my skin feels like it's being pricked by a thousand needles! I don't know of the movements of my allies, I don't know which way the tide is turning in the village because I have no way to hear from Reeve, and I have no way to know if we'll even survive this cursed freezing hell of a winter because the food stores of castle Camelot are so low you couldn't even cover a runt of a rat with their entirety!" She ended her tirade with a huff, and proceeded to cross her arms over her chest as she leaned into Alan's comforting warmth

Lancel let out a low whistle of amazement, "Well…when I asked ye for an explanation, I didn't expect a full length sermon…"

Alan gave Lancel a warning glance, "It's alright Hand, we're both here for you. Don't push yourself. You've eaten almost nothing…and you take the worst pick when you do eat. You're making yourself sick…mold and damp can't be eaten. Also, you haven't been sleeping as of late. I want to know why."

"…"

"ANSWER ME."

"…nightmares plague me in the dark realm of slumber. I…I don't want to walk through those terrors…but now my nightmares plague me in my waking hours as well…"

Alan held her closer, "I think your mind is bothering you because you are bordering the place between waking and slumber. You are gone enough to dream, but here enough to walk. Either way, be it the lack of food, or sleep, I have the solution. You are going to take a hot bath, and then I will see you eat something…I'll choose it for you. I won't let you make yourself sick again just to spare someone else. Then, you WILL sleep. In fact, you'll be sleeping with me so I can make sure you have a sound sleep."

"…but…"

"You argue, and I swear I knock you unconscious to make you rest."

Hand quivered a bit, "…no argument here."

Alan's gaze softened as he turned to Lancel, "Go on ahead and get the servants to bring some hot water up to our chambers. I'll take Hand up."

Lancel nodded, "Anything to get out of this damned wind."

* * *

***Another late update...I apologize. Anywho, I thought it was about time for some character development in regards to Arthur, and Mon/Hand. Also, in regards to the whole blood moon thing in the last chapter, for any who were confused: In old pagan belief it was believed that noise and fire light could keep away foul spirits. In medieval times, Christianity and paganism warred harshly. If a ruler had complete control, Christianity usual dominated...but since Rendu does not have a lot of power, the rights of the common people still have a major role in their lives.**

***As for Hand's breakdown, there is a mold that attaches to bread and meat after it stores for a long period of time. It has the potential to make you incredibly sick and can even cause hallucinations. In Hand's case, fatigue also played a key factor.**

***Thank you again, all my faithful readers, and considering I should be sleeping, I'd best say A-Dios. ^-^ **


	12. Hand Dreams, Rendu Steams, Arthur Trains

Alan

Alan picked Hand up and held her in his arms like a small child as he drew his cloak around them both to keep away the bite of the howling storm. "You really did overdo it this time…Hand." Alan sighed as he felt the warm blood from her knuckles seep into his shirt, "…for the record, this is my favorite tunic."

Hand pulled her hand back, with a embarrassed and apologetic look to her tired eyes, but Alan's warm fingers entangled in hers as he began to walk, "…but I didn't say you could let go."

Hand blushed an even deeper red as she snuggled into Alan's chest. A comfortable silence fell between the two as Alan navigated the iced stones in a careful and measured pace. As his feet hit the safety of the courtyard, abandoned by signs of life, and blanketed in a still growing pelt of knee deep snow, Hand murmured something to him, "What if…what if I don't have the strength to ensure my brother's future? What if all I can do is give him empty promises and poisonous dreams? I was the outcast…the one there but never truly there…the pariah who is looked through; like a ghost of what could be. But he, he always had it worse than me. Even though he had the bloodline, he led a more troubled life than I. For all the torment I endured, for me it rolled away because I vowed to fight back, and to become stronger. But he…he endured thrice over what I knew. My wars were fought with people I could have cared less about. I had the respect of the people I loved…my comrades. His wars were fought within and without. How can you expect a child to cope with the disdain of a father? How can you expect him not to become doubtful after all that he's been through? Maybe I should have left him to his dreams of becoming a knight…maybe then I wouldn't feel like I was sending him off to his death. Maybe then, this fear I feel at the idea of losing him over some half-made soon-to-be-king plans would be non-existent."

_Who's voice am I hearing now…hers or her exhaustion? _"Stop questioning yourself. I'll tell you something, you need to stop looking back or you'll crash into whatever is in front of you. Arthur can handle the battle and the throne because he has worked for it, and yearned for it. He had a bad lot…but just like your pain made you stronger, his pain has made him stronger too. Cowards roll in their sorrow and suffer…but the stuff both you and Arthur are made of…you both have the courage to turn pain into strength and determination. Despite what you think, there is much of you in the Young Dragon. He may bear his father's looks and personality…but it was something else along your mother's line that gave you both your courage."

The castle walls opened up to shelter them as the large wooden door closed shut against the fury of the white wrath. The castle was cold and damp, and the eyes that looked upon the two looked through them, looked through them and the wall, and through life and death.

A shudder went through Hand despite her efforts to quell it. As Alan began to move up the castle's inner stairs he looked down at her, "What's wrong?"

"Their eyes…they are turning into ghosts…"

Alan held her closer in a protective embrace, "You'd be more ghost than they, if ye'd stayed one more moment in that storm. It is better that you come into the warmth. You don't do well in the cold. If you don't get a fever…I will be surprised."

Hand gave a small laugh, "Even if I get I fever, I won't worry…"

"Let me guess, you have some herb that will cure you?"

"No…I know you'll be there to nurse me back to health."

It was Alan's turn to blush, but he didn't have time to comment considering that they were both at the door to their chambers.

The servant almost hit them on her rush out, and she mumbled her rapid string of apologies as she bowed away.

The room danced in fire light. No matter how dank the castle halls were, the private rooms were always kept warm by the flickering flames of the hearths. Alan set Hand down as Lancel came out of the side room with a flourish, "The water is as hot as fire will allow; if'n ye are ready for your bath?"

Hand nodded absentmindedly, "Thank you Lancel." She turned to Alan, "Give me a half hour at least before you begin to worry I drowned. I feel like someone dropped a pile of stones on me…"

Alan gave her a small smile, "Take as long as you need. I'll have food ready for you when you get out."

With dragging steps and an invisible weight on her shoulders, Hand disappeared into the side chamber to submerse into the steaming tub.

* * *

No sooner had Hand departed than a knock came upon the door. With an inquisitive glance towards Lancel, Alan went to open it, only to be greeted by a shrimp of a servant, with ghostlike eyes, and a pinched and cold chapped face absent of hair. The small framed man squeaked out in a voice that could have been carried away by the slightest breath of air, "…the king wishes for an audience with his right hand."

_Well that doddering old stupid idiot can just WISH all he wants…_Alan took a deep breath and worded his thoughts carefully, "Hand is taken ill at the moment, and will run to his side at the soonest possible moment."

The servant nodded and turned away, "Very well ser…"

_OH VERY WELL SER! _Alan mimicked in his head as he slammed the door.

Lancel raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior from where he lounged on his cot, "What was that about? Ye look like a man who's found a donkey amongst his herd of prized mares."

Alan plopped down on his own cot as his gaze drifted to the dancing of the fire, "Just a message…that Hand won't hear until after she's eaten and slept."

Lancel snorted in return, indicating Hand would not be happy when he finally did tell her. Alan just gave him a half look and shrugged. _So what if she isn't happy? At least she'll be healthy and rested._

Lancel laughed, "Alright, alright, but it's your funeral boyo."

"Hand is the world to me, and I won't let Rendu run her ragged like some errand dog. His rages grow worse by the day, and I won't subject Hand to them if I can help it."

* * *

Hand

Hand lounged back into the tub, the hot water squeezing the weariness from her bones and thawing the ice that had worked its way into her veins. _I feel somewhat better now…maybe fatigue was all that was behind my waking nightmares. But…I won't have much time for rest. Arthur holds the will of the people, yes; but he needs more than just their mental support. He needs to prove himself as a warrior…needs to hold a material thing that represents his power. He needs his father's sword. But Excalibur was lost when Rendu took over…I need to get a hold of that sword somehow. But I can't leave the castle until the spring thaw. Excalibur aside, Arthur needs to come to court in the spring as well. He'll need to get a feel for the courtly poses and ambitions if he is to do well as king. _

Hand sunk lower in the water as she sighed a deep exhale that carried with it the weight from her heart. _Maybe when the snows die down…I'll dodge the ogre and my knight in shining armor and brave the ice of the mountain. If I try, I can make it to Reeve, and from there, maybe I can find some messengers to make all hast to Robert, or Arthur. Yes, that would work. Going down the mountain is easy. Yet…would I be able to come back up the trail? I'll have to take another look off of the ramparts when the wind subsides._

* * *

Rendu

Rendu listened with strained patience in the embrace of his cold throne as the servant related Alan's message, "…and that tis his words sire…"

Rendu motioned the servant away, "…you listen here, fool. If my right hand is sick, I don't want you bothering him! If you dare to do so again I shall hang you from the ramparts to feed the carrion birds!"

"…but sire, you ordered me to…"

"SILENCE! My word is law here. You will not question my law!"

The man shivered and gulped as a rush of cold sweat broke over his face, "Aye sire…"

"GET OUT!"

With a flurry of cloth and flesh the old man scrambled out the door. After the loud clang of wood upon stone echoed throughout the hall, the chill was all that was left to witness Rendu; a crazed man wrapped up in his thoughts.

_No good…Hand sick. I must get him better…he is the only one I can trust in this sea of complete fools and black hearts!_

* * *

Hand

Safe in Alan's embrace, Hand fell away into the realm of sleep. But even with his arms around her, the nightmares flooded into her head.

_"It's so pretty here!" A little brown haired girl laughed as she ran and jumped through a field of wheat. The stalks of gold tickling her chin, while little moths and butterflies teased her hair. _

_Another child with blonde hair laughed with her, "Mon…wait for me, you'll get lost out here!"_

_"Look at the sky, Mira! Look at the clouds! Isn't it pretty! Oh wouldn't it be wonderful to get lost in that sky! To be able to fly forever and ever. Or…better yet, to be able to run forever and ever, and watch the sky and the land painted with new colors each day!"_

_Mira scrunched up her face, "…you're talking crazy again…"_

_Mon turned to respond, but instead of Mira, a large black hound with glowing red eyes stared back at her. One ear stood erect, the other flopped. The muzzle was long, a wolf's muzzle…with wolf's fangs. A deep growl-like chuckle vibrated from the beasts chest, "What's the matter Mon…don't you know me?"_

_Now it was an older Mon that took the place of the child. The gold stalks of wheat were cloaked in shadows as they withered and the darkness clouded over the sky. Mon's black cloak was swept back from her shoulders, her hood pulled back to reveal a pair of piercing honey brown eyes; her braided hair escaping its binds in small wisps to frame her tanned face. Her stance was set, and tense, but her eyes hid any trace of fear, "I know you…but why are you here?"_

_Again the growl-like chuckle, "Well, I did have some advice for you…since I am your subconscious after all."_

_"How am I to know you are merely me…and not a demon as you appear to be?"_

_The beast looked straight into her eyes, "A demon tricks to get its way. I offer you no trickery; though I am sick of being suppressed by your consciousness. Also, you are under the protection of your God. A demon can't tread in your mind easily."_

_"So you are the thing that has been clawing at the inside of my head…"_

_"Actually…no."_

_"What do you mean…?"_

_"I am here…but not here. I have no power over you when you are awake, because you force yourself into a façade to please those around you. That side of your personality you repress…well that is me, and I am you."_

_"Why the form of a hell hound then?"_

_The creature faded away into a mist and its voice came from everywhere at once, "I can take any form that you imagine. I am what I am because you are imagining me so. You are me, and you gave me this form."_

_Mon sighed, "Great, so my sense of the ironic just loves to meddle around in my head now too. Ah…forgetting that…why have these nightmares been plaguing me? It seems like you have all the answers; and what about that advice you wanted to tell me?"_

_The mist collected back in front of her and the hound spoke from his furred body again, "The nightmares are bothering you because you have been running your body into the ground, and your fears are congesting into your mind and causing great instability and irritation. Also…the confinement and scant rations aren't helping you either. You're losing your grip on your sanity…which, considering I've been here for awhile, I'm not sure you ever really had it."_

_"Get to the point."_

_"…oi, oi, you don't have to be pushy. You already know everything I'm going to say…"_

_"Get to the point."_

_"You want to know how to get to Reeve, do you not? Well, if you'll think back to your times in the library, and that escape tunnel, there is another branch off of the tunnel that continues into the village. Go down half way, where light is visible both ahead and behind, then feel the wall to your right. Feel upward your height and half again, then climb into the branch tunnel and travel straight along it until you reach the village. Mark your exit, and you can return that way again."_

_"For a figment of my imagination, you know a lot."_

_"Thank you."_

_"But…why were you so scary earlier; out on the ramparts?"_

_"Because, you were about to walk off the ramparts, and I needed to jolt you from your state of semi-consciousness."_

_"Then I guess I should be thanking you…"_

_"No, you should be thanking yourself for having an oddly functioning mind."_

_"One more question."_

_The hound grinned like a teacher with an overly curious child, "What do you wish to ask?"_

_"Am I really insane?"_

_Unable to keep a straight face, the hound burst into a fit of laughter, only to disappear into mist again, "Hear this child, insanity is only an artificial construct created by humans to describe those that they cannot understand. You are you; remember that."_

_The darkness disappeared and the sky was blue again. The wheat grew full and healthy again. The old Mon was again replaced by the young one with big curious brown eyes._

_With a smile, the small child turned to see Mira staring at her strangely, "No Mira, I'm not talking crazy…I'm talking like me." Mon replied to Mira's comment as if they had never been interrupted._

* * *

Arthur

"Come on BOY! FIGHT!" Thomas roared with all his might as he hacked at Arthur with his wooden practice sword. His superior strength and larger build combined with the flurry of his relentless attacks forced Arthur backwards.

Sweat dripped from every pore in the poor boy's body. His shaggy hair was plastered to his forehead, and clung there like tentacles suctioning away life, "I CAN'T Thomas! I can barely breathe! I yield!"

Thomas didn't relent as he shoved Arthur further back, causing Arthur to have to jump and swerve to avoid falling over one of the tent poles, "CAN'T can't do nothin' boy! What would you do in the field of battle, with your men fighting for their lives, family, and honor behind you! Would you surrender and force your men to death or prison or worse under the enemy's wrath because you could BARELY breathe! BARELY is still breathing! A true king fights until his heart stops beating for the sake of his people!"

Guin sat at the raised table in the middle of the renegade cave with Arthur's other teachers: Mira, Philip, Gendry, and Gerard. With her hand clenched over her heart she yelled out, "Fight on Arthur! Please don't give up!"

Arthur was panting, but his eyes widened in shock as he heard her words. Thomas paused as he brought his sword against Arthur's and held Arthur immobile by the weight of the wooden blade alone, "Do you hear it BOY? Those words…would you disappoint a lady? Are ye so craven you would throw her pleas to the winds?"

A new glint of determination sparked into Arthur's eyes as he roared and pushed back against Thomas. A surge of strength shot through him, and he got enough force behind his counter to drive Thomas back.

Thomas grew crazy with battle rage, "THAT'S THE WAY BOY!"

The ring of wood on wood rang throughout the cave as the two fighters hacked at each other. Then, splinters dusted the air as Arthur's sword struck Thoma's and broke it in half.

Thomas knelt with his hands in the air, as the useless weapon fell to the ground. Arthur's wooden sword point nestled like a maiden's kiss near the flesh of his neck.

Arthur turned to look at his assessors with an unspoken question, _How did I do?_

Philip spoke first, "You have done well, Young Dragon. You have bested Thomas in a battle of force…a great feat indeed; a feat well beyond the hope of most knights."

Arthur swelled with pride.

"But…"

Just as quickly, he crashed again; rage taking over, "But what Philip! I beat him! Isn't that enough!"

Philip waited for Arthur to calm himself, "But, force alone cannot win battles. You beat Thomas, yes. But you are exhausted from one fight. In a real battle, you'd be dead. Because the moment Thomas was defeated, you would have no strength to fight the next man who rode at you seeking to defeat a king. You would be food for worms. As it stands…I wonder if your brain is made of worms."

Arthur bit his lip to hold back his words.

Philip turned to Guinevere, "See to his wounds, and see him fed. The boy has the muscle…oh aye, that he does. So after he's tended, I want you to see to his lesson in strategy. Maybe a woman's tactics will be the necessary sweetness to temper his hot headed ways."

Guin looked at Arthur with sympathy in her eyes, but she rushed to do as she was bid.

Arthur winced as she gentley took his arm. She looked away, "I'm sorry."

Arthur spat on the ground, "Don't worry, it's only a scratch."

* * *

**WHOO! Over 3,000 words! (Not a great feat, I know...but for me I feel a sense of accomplishment!) **

**I thought about it, and it seemed weird to have Hand go through a breakdown and then just get over it. There had to be a falling action after the climatic scene, so that's how the talking hound got in her head. Think of it as...an imaginary friend that bounces your thoughts back at you but still somehow inspires you. ^-^**

**Also, Arthur needed to get some hardcore training in...his character has been a bit lazy! XD**

**Again, thanks to my loyal readers and reviewers...or should I say reviewer. Seriously, Isilarma is the reason I post this story instead of just writing it to leave it sitting in a file on my computer. So please, any readers out there, check out her stories! Please! ^-^**


	13. The Struggle to Turn the Tide

Robert

Molly was up early around the underground tunnels, _It's nice and warm down here, but everyone is going to be starving soon enough with all of that white powder fallin' down from up there. What the hell is Robert thinkin', lettin' that forked tongued snake Gerard run off on us. He'll be getting' fat at the main hideout, while Robert and poor ole us will starve in this hole in the ground. Speakin' o Robert, here he comes…_

"Good Morn, Molly."

Her smile was an earnest one as she replied, "Mornin' to ye Robert."

Robert shuffled nervously in the glow of the torchlight, "I suppose ye can already guess what I want to talk to ye about?"

Molly sighed, "The food…am I right?"

"Aye. We can't last much longer on what we have in the storage chambers."

Molly thought for a moment, and then replied with a measured tone, "What are the odds of anyone making it to Camelot with all the snow up above?"

"One or two people could make it…if they knew the way and traveled fast. But…it would be suicide to try and move everyone."

Molly leaned back against the wall of earth as she pondered on her thoughts, "What if…you sent one person to Camelot, one to find the Renegade army, and one to find a place where the snows are kinder. Have each report back, if they can…maybe even bring back some food, or cut a path for others to follow."

"But who would I send? The men here are getting rebellious, and not just towards Rendu. My guess is if any left, they'd be gone for good."

"I can go."

"YOU!" Robert half screamed, half laughed as he stared at her with a look crossed between horror and astonishment,

"Oh shut up, and quit yer screamin' in my poor ears. I may be a woman, but I tain't some defenseless fool. I've got me some relations in Camelot. I can get there without much trouble, even in this cursed weather."

Robert held his hands to his head as he sighed, "Just…do whatever you want. We won't survive the winter anyways. It matters little if one person flees to save herself."

Molly really lost her temper then. She punched Robert hard, right in the jaw. She clenched her fist in front of her as she cautioned him, "Watch your mouth Robert. I acknowledge you as a General…for now. But if you make a habit out of calling me a turn cloak…I'll beat that chubby hide of yours down a few notches."

Again Robert sighed, "There is no way I'm going to win this argument…is there?"

"No."

In defeat, he turned to walk down the tunnel, "Then go…and bring some help to us. You're 'bout the only chance the lot of us have got."

* * *

Hand

It was early morn, with darkness still blanketing the sky, Hand awoke in Alan's warm embrace. _The tunnels…I remember now. I have to talk to Rendu, I have to go to the village now, before the snows grow worse._

Hand wriggled her way out of Alan's arms as she grabbed her cloak from the end of the bed. With the firelight to aid her, she wrote a quick note on some parchment sheets with a charcoal piece that had been stored in a box by the bookshelf: I'll be gone for a day, don't worry until after dawn tomorrow. – Hand

Closing the door as quietly as possible, she walked briskly down the halls of the castle. _This dampness…it seeps into your bones and drains the very life out of them. In the rooms and the Great Hall, the hearths and their flames keep the worst of it away; but in the halls…a person could die if they lingered here. _

* * *

Rendu looked up in astonishment as the opening door revealed Hand to the glow of the torchlight, "Hand! I was told you were ill! Did the message my servant left with your guard reach you?"

_Alan, you may still be sleeping…but I should throw a bucket of water on you for not telling me…_"Upon request I appear before the throne." Hand did a sweeping bow to cover her rapidly working mind.

Rendu seemed flustered as he continued, "My dear right hand, I was told that you were greatly sick, by all means, rest, rest."

Hand smiled under her hood, "Aye, I was very sick, but my guard nursed me back to good health. Upon my waking this morn he presented me with your message, and I came as swiftly as my legs would allow. State your order, and I shall obey…I am at your command."

"This is good; that you are better. You of course are the only one I can truly trust! I was hoping I could speak with you about the issue of food. The servants are whispering…constantly whispering, and moaning and crying from lack of their meals. Though I don't understand why, the meals have been served regularly…though not of the best taste…they have been served."

Hand didn't falter, _of course they've been served regularly…to YOU, your people go hungry, and you don't even notice because your own table is always full. _"The winter is harsh, and the winds howl and rage. The cold is like a disease, seeping into the stone, the body, and the blood. The reason I was sick, was because I had eaten little…and what I did eat was long bad, unfit for consumption. Your table is always full, because you are the one on the throne. You need your strength, and it is a small price that we of the castle pay to make sure you see the spring. As to the problem, I believe I have found the solution, though I must ask your permission to be gone for a day or so from the castle."

"I see no reason to deny your request. Though where are you going?"

"To the village."

"If that is where you seek food, then by all means take everything they have."

Hand grew wary as she sensed a needle sharp prick of agitation in Rendu's voice, "But if I take everything…what will they eat?"

"It hardly matters. If I starve, they'd die anyway. My knights would see to it." Rendu caught his slip of tongue, but not before Hand latched onto every detail, "But that hardly matters, since you will see to the problem of sustenance."

Hand forced a smile, "Fear not, the castle shall dine well in the cold months. Of that, I will make sure."

Rendu returned Hand's good cheer, "I leave matters completely in your hands."

_So you say…but you are giving me much less control than I'd like._

* * *

Arthur

Arthur sat with stone cold features on a high backed chair in Guinevere's tent. With Guin across from him in a chair of similar make, and a game of chess displayed between them, it made for an unusual scene.

Guinevere smiled up at Arthur with kind and gentle eyes, "Well, since I need to teach you the basics before we can play…let's begin. The reason I am playing this game with you is to improve your strategy. As a king, your wits are an even more valuable weapon than your sword; therefore they need to be even sharper than your blade. Also, you can tell a lot about a person by how they play chess. The way they move betrays not only their main strategy fashion…but also their true personality. Hand is actually a very interesting player. He played a game with me before he left. He in fact, resembles the playing style of the rook. He is reluctant to make moves that sacrifice his pieces, and he goes into a fury of recoil strikes when one of his pieces is taken. He is very…cautious and protective when it comes to his king and defensive pieces; but when he is moving to save one of his pieces, he does so without thinking ahead."

Arthur replied with a detached tone, like he was asking on a whim and not even remotely trying to sate his curiosity, "What do you mean his playing style is like the rook?"

"The rook is the castle piece; it can move any number of squares to the left, right, up, or down. The rook represents the traits of Hand's personality, so that is his respective playing style."

"What do the other pieces represent?"

With a glint of confidence in her eye that only appeared when a person was in their element, Guin explained with much enthusiasm, "The queen piece is a fiery and aggressive one. It can move in any one direction, for any amount of squares. The queen represents motherly protectiveness…but it also represents a darker side. A person who plays like the queen will play ruthlessly, and destroy as many of the enemy as possible with little remorse in order to protect their own. The Bishop is the cold, emotionless, calculator. A bishop, with its unlimited diagonal moves, is all strategy. It will focus on turning the opposition's moves against him. The knight, which moves in an 'L' shape, is out for glory and will make bold moves…mostly moves that are very easy to predict. However, the knight also tends to disregard others, and can end up sacrificing pieces needlessly in order to reach their goal. The darker side of the knight is that they tend to be immature and hot headed…often doing things in an ill fitted fashion, or becoming too cocky and losing horribly. The pawn is a very simple piece. It can only move one square at a time, forward; and it attacks when a piece is diagonal to it. Even though many underestimate the pawn, it has the ability to turn the tide of a game. The pawn has a hidden potential. On its first move, it can move two squares, and if it reaches the opposing side of the board, it can become any of the other pieces: Queen, Rook, Knight, or Bishop. The king, in most cases, doesn't really represent a particular style…rather, the ultimate goal. But the king can move one square in any direction as long as it doesn't move into check." Guin looked up at Arthur after pointing out each piece on the board to him, "Now, we are ready to begin the game. You will be playing ivory, so you will move first. I'll be playing wood, so I will react to your moves. Fight like you would in a real battle scenario. Tell me what person each piece represents before you make your first move though."

Arthur looked at each piece and replied without much emotion, "I suppose, I'll be the king. Hand and Alan are my rooks. Philip and Gerard are my bishops. Lancel and Thomas are my knights. Gendry and Robert would be pawns. You are my queen."

Guin nodded her understanding of his choices, not daring to correct his mistake at including Gerard as the bishop piece, "Good, now play like my pieces are Rendu's army, and make sure you think before you move."

* * *

The game began. At first, Arthur was just making inquisitive moves, but suddenly, and without warning, right after an unbelievable loss of players, he had maneuvered his pieces to surround the entirety of Guinevere's army. He yelled out loudly, "YES! CHECK MATE!" He turned his winning grin to Guin, "So…How did I do?"

Guin sighed as she forced a smile and avoided his question, "You play like a knight."

A dark blonde eye brow rose in question, "…your point?"

"You won…but you lost your pawns before you even got a chance to attack my pieces. You lost one of your rooks and one of your knights in the midst of battle; lost your other rook as well as your queen in order to even maneuver the enemy king into your final trap; and, you ended up using your king to make the final checkmate. The strategy was a successful one, but your moves were predictable, and your losses were high. You only have four pieces left on the board, two bishops, one knight, and one king. In a real battle do you think you could deal with that? What would you do, if in the real battle, you lost Robert, Gendry, Thomas, Alan, Hand, and I?"

Arthur's voice flared with agitation as he jumped from his seat in a rage, "But this is a game; the pieces aren't really my people."

Guinever showed no fear when she looked into his eyes and explained like she was berating a small child, "But the goal was for you to play this game like a real battle. Would you truly send those people to their deaths; just as you sent the pieces into danger without hesitation?"

The young dragon ground his teeth in frustration as he rubbed his temples,"Be quiet Guin…my head hurts, from Thomas's beating and your lesson. I need sleep."

For once, Guinevere remained firm, "You NEED training."

With a wave over his shoulder, Arthur ignored her lecture and headed outside the tent, "I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll play another game with you. But it will be a GAME; not a real battle. All this is…is a game."

Guinevere didn't move from her seat as she stared at the board and the pieces that remained, "As you say…Young Dragon." _All that was left to you: two bishops, one knight, and yourself. Is that how this battle for the throne will end? Will it really end with Gendry, Robert, Thomas, Alan, Hand, and I dead? You young hot head…you've got looks that would make any young maid swoon. Heaven's knows you've got my heart pretty much locked away with the key in your hand alone. But sometimes I wonder…is there anything going on in that head of yours? Is there any real compassion in your heart? You've got a long way to go if you'll be a great king. I know you'll be a good king. You're already leagues better than Rendu…but will you be a GREAT king?_

* * *

Reeve

Reeve's eyes crinkled with amusement as he handed the young Merlin that sat shivering by his fire a steaming tankard of cider, "Is there any particular reason why I found a frozen hell hound at my door?"

Hand sneezed as her body shivered, "Sorry," she wiped her nose and continued while Reeve listened patiently, "I need a way to keep track of the movements of my allies, and I can't do that while I'm cooped up in the castle. I come with the request that you will be my eyes and ears in the village."

Reeve chuckled, "Well, I coulda guessed at that. What I want ta know is how ya even got here. I highly doubt ya just walked out the front gate."

Hand laughed in return, "Funny, and I wish it could have been that simple. No, I spent the majority of the morning stumbling around in pitch black tunnels and freezing the last stretch of the way to find where you lived."

"Awe, so much trouble for unimportant ole me, why I'm flattered."

Hand gulped down the last of the cider gratefully, "Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the drink. You saved my life with it, I swear. But, there is a more pressing reason why I have sought out your help. The status of the village's food stores; I need to know them. It's getting bad at the castle. The people there are looking more and more like ghosts. Even I managed to get myself into a fix. I ended up eating some long bad meat, and I almost paid with my life for it. My head went sick, and I almost fought against the storm itself."

Reeve laughed, "Even a child knows not ta eat bad meat…" but his voice dropped off as his eyes processed the slump of Hand's figure.

Her voice replied, "You'll be surprised what you can stomach when you're starving."

Reeve averted his gaze so he was gazing into the flames, "Trust me, I know well that feeling…We managed ta keep a lot of food from Rendu this year, thanks ta you. Ye really are a hero. Ye are a brave man to risk your life like you do. The people of the village are well fed, and the children's eyes are not pinched with hunger like they were last year. We have enough ta last us the winter, and a few weeks after. We can spare enough ta let the people of the castle cling ta life…but if'n ya want the look of a ghost ta leave their eyes…you'll need ta hunt for yourself."

Hand smiled under the cover of her hood, "I won't ask you to jeopardize the village stores. A chance at life is all I ask…and I thank you for it. I hate to ask…but, do you think I could stay here until nightfall. I left a letter with Alan and Lancel, so they shouldn't begin to worry until tomorrow at dawn. I had to sneak away this morning, and with me being so out of it yesterday, I know they'll be mad at me for making such a venture without consulting them first. In all truth…I'm not looking forward to the lecture their going to give me when I get back."

Reeve let his melodious laugh ring out again as he wiped a tear of mirth from his eye, "Ye do know that putting off the inevitable will only make it worse for ye when ye finally faces it."

Hand stretched like a lazy hound and sighed with a trace of a chuckle, "Be that as it may, this hell hound is going to be warm and well rested when I face that inevitable outcome."

Reeve faltered as he stared at her with shock plastered all over his face, then in a flash his body was racked with laughter once more, "Well…that's a way ta look at it…I suppose." Then Reeve's tone dropped to become more serious as he sat down in the chair opposite Hand, "Tell me…ya know it don't you…what our future holds? Is there really a way…really a chance, that Rendu will back down from the throne?"

Hand looked into her mug, "Reeve, no one knows what the future holds. If I could have things go exactly as I planned, I would wait Rendu out. He is sick, and he won't live much longer. He is old, and as much as I am reluctant to do so…I pity him. I pity him because he has forced himself into a life of loneliness, fear, and distrust. He is isolated…always. Arthur has the bloodline, and with Rendu lacking heirs, it would be ideal for Arthur to step forward. However…something in the pit of my stomach tells me that Rendu has things set up to go wrong if anything should happen to him. You know it…don't you? The way some of his knights act? He had all the major households give up one of their sons to become knights in his service…as a way of gaining control. If he dies…I have a feeling that the knights loyal to him will make the streets of Camelot run red with blood once more. He has no taste for the peasantry, he doesn't see people when he looks at any of us. He sees pawns, and he sees traitors, and he sees things that need to be killed quickly. He wouldn't shed a tear if Camelot was wiped out. But of course, I can only speculate based on the conversations I've had with him. I have no solid evidence as of yet."

Reeve nodded, "I agree that the path without bloodshed is the best one…but when dealing with a demon, anything short of death and they still find ways ta lash out at ye. Wouldn't it work better if you just made sure he didn't survive the winter?"

"No, if Rendu has to die…it has to be by Arthur's hand. Whoever removes Rendu from the throne will take control. It has to be in battle. If it is any other way, most of the major households will not accept it. Their ways are of battle and blood. The villagers would understand…they are practical and know a better leader and a better life. But tradition is a hard thing to break. Better ruler or not…the households will follow the stronger. An act of poison…something they deem as craven, would only serve to drive a rift between them and Arthur."

"Ye know a lot about the kings' game. Sure ye don't want to try for the throne yourself?" Reeve said it in jest, but the accusation was still there; lurking under the surface…trying to find Hand's measure.

Hand chuckled, "Power rots away at the person who takes it unjustly…and I am not of the bloodline. The throne is Arthur's. My place is at his side…if he'll accept me, and elsewhere if he rejects me."

Something close to respect shone in Reeve's eyes, "What will you do, if after all the work you've put into getting Arthur the throne…he rejects you?"

Hand puzzled over the question for a moment, "I'll settle down, and start a small farm. Maybe even sell some herbs and teach a few of my tricks."

Reeve shook his head in wonder, "That sounds like heaven to me…but would you be happy with such a simple life?"

Hand gazed into the fire, "A simple life…was all I ever really wanted."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**YES! Over 3,000 words! I'm writing furiously on the last stretch of the story, but I have to keep remembering to go back and continue the middle so I can post! ^-^**

**Anywho, thanks once more to Isilarma, and I also must thank Joseph-Alexander (please check out his stories if you get the chance!) for reading as well. He is actually the guy that Thomas is based off of. So you'll be seeing more of his character shortly; especially in the next chapter!**

**Well, A-Dios and God bless any who are reading this!**


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